Soon Enough
by x-the-rising-x
Summary: They both know their relationship was never, and never will be, platonic. And, as she once said People who are meant to be together always find their way in the end. Brooke and Lucas Season 5 future fic based loosely on spoilers
1. Prologue: Just as Long as We're Together

**Soon Enough**

**_A/N: _**This is a Brooke and Lucas season 5 fic. It is based loosely on spoilers (mainly in the introduction). I wrote this mainly for the girls over at FF who are absolutely _agonizing _over the spoilers we have been given. This is a treat for them :)

Please read and review.

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Prologue

Just as Long as We're Together 

**2009**

He doesn't want to be here. Not an ounce of him wants to spend the entirety of the evening talking to boring, rich publishers. The majority of him wants to escape back to his hotel room, turn on a movie on pay-per-view, and go to sleep.

A small portion of him want to get drunk.

But no. Instead he is stuck in a Penthouse in Lower Manhattan, with wall-to-wall windows overlooking the Hudson River, and the glimmering lights of Jersey City. And the bar is all the way across the room. He doesn't feel like braving the crowd for a scotch.

"Lucas!"

He turns. It's Lindsay, an editor he met a few days ago, pushing her way through the hordes of people, a martini in her hand.

"Hey," he says, half-heartedly greeting her.

"I just finished!" she squeals excitedly. She had been halfway through his first novel when he met her. Her company was considering signing him, and she seemed especially excited to meet him. "The ending was absolutely amazing."

He smiles somewhat sheepishly. In his opinion, the ending had been boring, generic. Too happy for his liking. And now he knows happy endings don't really exist.

"But I _have _to ask," she continues dramatically. "Do the 'Lucas and Peyton' in real life live happily ever after?" she asks, cocking her eyebrow.

When he had begun to write his first book in high school, he hadn't bothered changing character names. He still can't exactly decipher whether the book is a novel or a memoir. Though written in they style of fiction, he can't pick out many moments in the book that he made up.

He shrugs. "Who knows?" Because, truthfully, even he doesn't.

She sighs, disappointed. She had wanted some scoop on Lucas' real life story, he could tell. "Anyway, there's someone here looking for you. Brooke something or other."

His mood picks up immediately, and simultaneously he hears a squeal.

"Lucas!" The brunette is bursting out of the crowd, ignoring the whispers and looks of recognition that follow her. She envelops him in a hug.

He is genuinely happy to see her. "Brooke! I can't believe you came!"

She cocks her eyebrow in a way that makes Lindsay's attempt seem childish. "You don't think I would miss out on your book-launching party? Where's Peyton? I've been looking for both of you for like 15 minutes."

His smile fades. "She – uh – couldn't make it."

Brooke look confused, but realizes he wants to drop the subject. Lindsay clears her throat.

"Oh!" Lucas snaps out of his thoughts and turns to Lindsay. "Lindsay, this is my…" he tries to find a word that will correctly define a relationship that could have a novel written about it "friend, Brooke Davis."

Lindsay extends her arm to Brooke as cameras turn their attention away from Lucas, and on to Brooke. He can already see the headlines tomorrow as flashes blind him.

_Brooke Davis Finds Companionship in Newly Discovered Novelist_

But the tabloids will never know the whole story.

Either Lindsay lives under a rock, or simply is unfazed that she is standing next to a woman who has become a household name in less than a year. Brooke Davis isn't in stores everywhere. Brooke Davis now own and designs a high fashion clothing line that matches those of Mark Jacobs, Carolina Herrera. Her line makes its home at an elite shop on Fifth Avenue. Kate Moss and Giselle Bündchen regularly model her clothing at high-ranking fashions shows in London and Paris.

Yet Brooke Davis isn't any different.

Lindsay has disappeared in search of a refill, and Brooke is now attempting to fend off the paparazzi that have somehow weaseled their way into the party.

"Hey," he says, bending down to talk to her over the noise. "You wanna' get out of here?" he asks, speaking on an impulse.

Brooke looks around. "Luke, this is your publishing party."

The nickname takes him back to high school and right now they are no longer 20, grown up much too quickly, but 17, young and carefree.

"That doesn't mean I want to be here."

IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII

Brooke's apartment is on Park Avenue and 72nd street, and they stop there first, Brooke eager to change out of her formal attire.

"Wow," he breathes as they step off the elevator. His entire apartment in Tree Hill could probably fit in her living room. She blushes as he takes in the grandness of it.

"I just bought it a few months ago. But it's not really me."

He's puzzled. "What do you mean?"

She shrugs. "It doesn't feel very homey. I was living in a loft in Tribeca for a year, which I loved, but my mom took one look at it and practically forced me to move. She told me that Downtown is for the struggling artists, uptown is for the high-end designers."

Lucas laughs. "I don't think anyone living in Tribeca is struggling."

Brooke rolls her eyes. "My mom, believe it or not, has very old-fashion beliefs about New York. She's still convinced you can't anywhere alone without getting mugged. That's why she takes a limo everywhere."

"Wait...your mom lives here?"

Brooke smile falters slightly. "Yeah." She beckons him into a bedroom that lies off of the living room, and walks into a massive walk-in closet. "She moved here about a year ago. I don't know why she and my dad don't get a trial separation." Brooke is rummaging through shelves of shoes, and Lucas can tell, from the different pitch and tone of her voice, that Brooke is still just as sensitive about her relationship with her parents as she used to be.

"Are you guys getting along."

"I don't really have a choice. She leant me some money when I first dropped out of FIT. Said that I just needed a push to get me going. And I've long since paid her back, but I still feel like I owe her for getting my career going, you know?"

Lucas nods. "So in what way is she a part of your life."

"She's kind-of my advisor. Un-officially at least. She helps me deal with money and expenses and the logistics of everything. She's actually been a lot of help I guess it's from years of balancing my dad's checkbook."

Brooke pulls a green halter dress from her closet and smiles, satisfied. She looks to Lucas. "Do you mind?" she asks softly, nodding to the bedroom door.

Lucas obliges, leaving Brooke to change as he waits in the foyer.

IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII

"I don't believe for a second that you come hear all the time," Lucas mutters as they sit down at the bar. The bar itself is not so much a bar, as it is a pub. A greasy bartender wipes the counter. Basketball highlights play as loud middle-aged men jeer at the television set.

Brooke laughs. "I don't. I learned my lesson after being felt up a thousand times by guys thinking I was a hooker. More often than not, I was wearing jeans."

Lucas laughs, a little unsure as to whether she's joking or not.

"There's this place on Lexington that has amazing food. But Lenny mixes the best drinks here," she says, gesturing to the bartender who gives her a friendly wave. "I figure drinks before dinner is the only way to go."

He smiles.

IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII

When they reach the restaurant, there are no free tables, so they have to sit at the bar anyway. Lucas asks Brooke why she doesn't just use her name to get them a table. She shoots him a surprised look as they take their seats at the bar.

"I don't think a couple deserves getting their table taken away just because _I _want it."

Lucas wants to slap himself, as he realizes Brooke isn't the kind of person to use her fame to her advantage. In fact, he's beginning to get the vibe that maybe to her, the fame was more of a burden than a blessing.

"So," she says after a few minutes, stabbing her salad with her fork. "Where is Peyton?"

He shrugs. "I guess, things aren't really going so well."

She sighs. "Come on, you guys have had rough patches before. I'm sure you'll work things out." She doesn't exactly sound reassuring as she stares into her martini.

Lucas shakes his head. "I don't think so. Not this time."

"Well, if you guys were having problems, I really hope you didn't give her an ultimatum. Trust me, I know from experience, there is no better way to paralyze a girl."

He protests. "I didn't." And he teeters on the edge of telling her exactly what happened, or simply letting it pass. He decides on the latter. "How many times has she called you since you left LA?"

Brooke's mood immediately changes, and she mumbles something about them both being busy. "It's not her fault."

Lucas sighs. "I was going to propose."

"What?" Brooke's head snaps up in disbelief.

"Yeah," he nods. "I don't really know what I was thinking. I mean, we're only 20. I guess, I just saw her slipping away, and felt like that was the only real way to hold on."

"A ring doesn't solve anything, Lucas. Just ask my parents." There is a long pause. Then she speaks again. "Why didn't you?"

"I realized it was a stupid decision."

Brooke nods. "Look, Lucas. I'm happy for you and Peyton. But I honestly don't think marriage is going to solve anything."

"It doesn't matter anyway. She still broke up with me."

Brooke sighs, watching as Lucas hangs his head moodily. "You know what? We should get drunk." He looks up. "Really _really _drunk."

He smiles. She sounded like the old Brooke when she said that. She holds up a finger to signal the bartender and then looks to Lucas. "Can I see the ring?" She asks, hesitantly.

Lucas shrugs, why not? He reaches into the inside pocket of his jacket and pulls out the box. She opens it and puts a hand to her heart. "It's beautiful," she breathes.

"Congratulations!" comes a booming voice from across the bar. Both Brooke and Lucas look up, confused. The bartender is clapping his hands loudly, and soon the whole restaurant joins in. It isn't until two glasses of champagne "on the house" are placed in front of them, that they look to the ring, and look to the drinks, and look to the clapping restaurant, that they realize what has happened.

Everyone thinks they're engaged.

Lucas immediately looks at Brooke. A smile tugs at the corners of her mouth, and she nods to the free champagne.

_Why not, _both their looks read, as Brooke slips the ring onto her finger.

IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII

"My mom would _totally _kill me if she knew I was in central park alone at night," Brooke giggles, as she stumbles a little along the path.

"What are you, twelve?" Lucas' booming laugh fills the silence of the park as they emerge at the entrance on 59th street.

"Shut up!" She punches him in the shoulder. "If it wasn't for _my _genius plan, we would have never gotten free drinks al over the city."

"_Your _genius plan? I believe the idea was mine."

Brooke scoffs playfully.

"Well, Mrs. Lucas Scott, where to now?" His words are only half-slurred and he can't be more than a little tipsy

Before Brooke can answer, a horse-drawn carriage driver calls out to them.

"Hello? You folks need a ride?" They turn and Brooke sighs.

"It's so romantic," she says, half joking, half serious. The entire evening has been something out of the Twilight Zone. The fake engagement seems oddly out of place, and at the same time, strangely right. Brooke, for the first time in a long time, feels safe. And then, of course, she has to remind herself that this is all just a clever ruse to get free drinks. None of this means anything.

Lucas helps her into the carriage and she throws the blanket over them both.

"So, what are you two lovebirds up to this evening?"

"Actually – " Brooke starts to speak, but Lucas interrupts her.

"We just got engaged."

The cabbie turns in his seat. "Well, congratulations! You two deserve a free ride."

Both Brooke and Lucas are shocked by their good luck. They smile at each other, and settle back to enjoy the ride.

"So what are your plans for the future?" the cabbie asks, making conversation.

The two turn to each other, with no choice but to play along. Brooke speaks first, her eyes never leaving Lucas'. "Well, I see us as a power couple."

"But, of course we'll still have time for a big family," continues Lucas, smiling back at her. "I'll coach little league, and she'll bake cookies for the team. We'll spend summers on the beach – "

" – and winters in South France," Brooke finishes.

"But," Lucas gives her a soft smile. "It won't matter as long as we're together."

"That's the key," the cabbie responds gruffly. "Having someone to love and having them love you back. Love is what it's all about."

Brooke and Lucas share a look. They both agree.


	2. Coming Home

**Soon Enough**

**_A/N: _**I was absolutely blown away by the reviews on the first chapter, and want to thank _everyone _reviewed. It really motivated me to continue the story. Now, while the prologue was in 2009, the rest of the story, save for flashbacks, will be written in 2011, where S5 will begin.

Enjoy...and please review!

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**  
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**Chapter 1**

Coming Home

**2011**

"It's called a vacation, mom. I'm surprised you don't know the meaning since that's pretty much how you and dad spent my entire childhood." Lately, Brooke is not one to talk back to her mother, but her boiling point has pretty much been reached.

"Brooke." The way Lydia says her name is enough to make Brooke crawl back into her shell. Her moåther is sitting on the couch in Brooke's living room, sifting through pages of designs. Her chemically straightened and dyed brown hair hangs down to her shoulders, her sharp jaw and deep brown eyes make her seem barely forty, though she is well into her fifties.

But Brooke is tired. She's tired of four hours of sleep a night, and she's tired of popping Advil five times a day. She's tired of letting her mother control her life (Why wasn't she around to do that when Brooke was a kid?), and she's tired of boring parties that well into the early hours of the morning. She's tired of countless faceless men she's had to turn down, because, let's face it, none of them are what she wants.

She doesn't know herself anymore. She doesn't know when the façade she puts on for the media ends, and the real Brooke Davis begins.

"I wanna' go home," she says softly, thinking and maybe hoping for a split second that her mother hadn't heard her. But then Lydia sighs.

"This is your home," she says, without looking up from the designs, tired by her daughter's antics.

But it hasn't. It's never been her home. From the moment she stepped foot for the first time the city, when she was merely 17, she had known this would never be home.

"Mom," she says, a little more forcefully. Lydia finally looks up. "I want to go _home._"

IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII

"Uncle LUKE!" Lucas hardly has time to react as he sets foot in the classroom before a whirlwind of small boy is upon him.

"Hey Jamie," Lucas relies, chuckling slightly at the small boys excitement. "It's as though you haven't seen me in years."

"When in reality, he dropped you off at day camp this morning," Haley replied with a laugh as she stood up from her desk.

"How's it going, Hales?"

"Pretty well," responded Haley, swinging her bag over her shoulder and following Lucas out of classroom. "I _only_ have 30 'my hero' papers to grade by tomorrow," she says sarcastically.

"Ah the life of a fifth grade teacher."

"Maybe _I _should write a book," says Haley through a smile as they exit the elementary school, and Jamie runs ahead and out onto the boardwalk.

"So have you talked to Peyton lately?" Haley asks after a minutes pause.

"Not really. It's not like I have anything to say to her. Why?"

"She called me today." Haley looked up. "Apparently she's coming home for a week or two."

Lucas shrugs. It's not anything new. Peyton's visits were not uncommon throughout the year – she seems to have a strong attachment to Tree Hill, the town, her house.

"It's been the longest time since we were all home together. You know, me, Nathan, you, Peyton, and Brooke."

"Yeah," responds Lucas, somewhat distantly. His feelings about Peyton are always slightly mixed. He always thinks that he misses her, yet the entire time she's in Tree Hill, he wonders when she'll be leaving. She leads him on the entire time, flirting with him, yet he gets the idea that she is still a lot more in to him than he is to her.

It all ended for him when she played that song.

IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII

_"Doesn't this song break your heart?"_

_He looks up from his desk. Peyton is sitting on his bed, sifting through his itunes library. She's been home for three days now. It's the fourth time she's been back since the break-up, each time pretending like nothing has changed. _

_The familiar lyrics of _Boston _float out of the speakers. Lucas freezes, his mind blank. _

_"It reminds me of us." He makes himself look at her. She quickly elaborates. "Not the lyrics, but the melody. It's got that bittersweet tone to it – you know?"_

_He wants her gone now. Just out of his room. This isn't their song. This will never be _their _song. _

"So I guess we never finished that conversation."

"Dance with me."

IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII

It's not as though at that moment he came to a realization that he was still in love with Brooke – and he wanted Peyton out of his life. It just put things in perspective for him. Music freaks though he and Peyton are, he can't pinpoint many songs that remind him of their relationship – ones he couldn't listen to after they broke up.

After he and Brooke broke up, his music collection got slightly smaller.

He could no longer listen to Aqualung's Memory Man. That album had been playing on repeat one day senior year when they all went to the beach and Brooke brought her ipod speakers.

He could no longer listen to For Blue Skies by Strays Don't Sleep. That song had been drifting out of his computer the night he and Brooke had mended their relationship and said their first I love you's.

He could no longer listen to the entirety of Bruce Springsteen's The Rising, one of his most prized albums. Brooke had quoted one of the songs in almost every letter she had sent to him.

He could no longer listen to all his rap and hip-hop. Not even being able to distinguish which songs he and Brooke had danced to on those Friday nights when she would coax him to a party by teasing him in a dangerously low cut shirt and high skirt. When she would pull him into the middle of the living room, into the middle of writhing adolescent bodies, and place her arms around only him, pressing seductively against him to the music.

He could no longer listen to Soon Enough by The Constantines. It had been one morning senior year when he had woken up in her bed alone. He had ventured into the living room where she was swaying and singing softly along to the song as she twirled around a mannequin holding a dress she was sewing. Her soft waves bounced around the top of his sweatshirt that she wore over a top of faded boxer shorts. At that moment he wanted to stay like that forever – standing in the living room watching her sway and sing to The Constantines.

IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII

"Lucas?" her voice sounds far away through the connection.

"Brooke?" He's surprised to hear her voice.

"Hey." She sounds bored – exhausted. He can't really remember the last time he spoke to her when she sounded like the upbeat dimpled girl he knew in high school. In fact, he can't really remember the last time they spoke. They keep up a frequent email exchange, but never really communicate by phone.

After the initial how are you's, there is a pause over the line. Then, "did you get my email?"

Lucas slides the cursor on his laptop over to his email and checks his inbox. Sure enough, a message from Brooke sits at the top. He double clicks.

_Hey Broody,_

_Hey remember when we used to be friends? Before you decided you were much too cool to associate with me? Just kidding. But really, I miss you. I miss Tree Hill. I'm coming home. If I can escape the wrath of Lydia Davis, which, contrary to popular belief, is possible. . _

_I'll keep you updated. _

_xo,_

_Brooke_

He smiles as he reads the fun and flirty note. "You're coming home?" he exclaims, excited.

"I am," and he can hear her grin through her words.

"Brooke, that's great! God, I haven't seen you in…"

"Two years."

"Oh." There is a short pause. "Right."

He doesn't really realize until now that they hadn't seen each other since that night. The night in which they weren't quite drunk enough to make the stupid mistakes that they made.

IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII

_She's still giggling as she leans against her building. It's dark where she is – a space in between where the streetlights cast eerie glows upon the sidewalks. Lucas walks up to her, letting his hand fall against the stone façade next to her head, trapping her against the building. _

_He can see in her eyes that she's only tipsy, no drunker than he is. He knows this was a stupid idea, that neither of them had really needed the free drinks – or the free buggy ride for that matter. Her dark hair falls straight against her ribcage, her wispy side-swept bangs framing her face. Her mascara is slightly smudged. _

_Lucas leans in and their bodies are inches apart. He can smell the perfume on her neck. He can almost taste the alcohol on her lips. She's looking straight at him. She wants this. Whatever _this _is. _

_He isn't sure why he is doing this. He's not thinking clearly. He brushes his lips just barely against hers and he feels her pull back. She duck under his arm and places a soft kiss on his cheek. She pulls off the ring and places it into his hand. _

"_Bye Luke," she says gently before disappearing into the building. _


	3. I Thought I Knew You

**Soon Enough**

**_A/N: _**Thank you to everyone who reviewed! They were all lovely to read. Just to clear up confusion, the only part of my fic based on spoilers was the prologue.

A big thanks to **Leah (dolcegrazia) **because without her, I would be utterly confused as to whether the direction I took in this chapter was a good idea.

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**Chapter 2**

I Thought I Knew You

It isn't until the evening that Brooke's plane gets in that Lucas realizes that this will be the first time in 4 long years that he's had to deal with both of his ex-girlfriends – at once.

He's standing at baggage claim, scanning the crowd for a dimpled brunette. And then he spots her. She's moving at a slow pace, weaving her way through the crowd, a monstrous Louis Vutton duffle on her shoulder.

"Lucas?" Her initial reaction is less enthusiastic than he had expected, and as she stands awkwardly in front of him, clearly not moving to hug him, the flowers he holds in his left hand now feel out of place and unnecessary. "What are you doing here?"

He pauses, wondering if this is a trick question. "I came to pick you up," he responds.

She looks past him, still seeming confused. "Isn't Peyton coming home today? I thought you'd be at home to meet her."

He shrugs. This isn't going at all how he had expected. What is it about him and Brooke and airports? She doesn't seem all together happy to see him. In fact, she looks a little pissed. "I was going to go see her after I picked you up. I thought you might want to come."

This time it's Brooke's turn to shrug. He expects her to respond, but she doesn't. She just looks to her feet. Lucas decides to brush past the issue. He reaches for the bag she's carrying, lifting the weight and depositing it on his own shoulder. He watches as her eyes soften. They seem to change from a sharp grey to a soft green. She offers him a small smile.

That's all he needs.

IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII

"So how have you been?" He figures that he should be the one to break the silence, considering they have been driving for a good 10 minutes, and neither of them has spoken. He thought that it would be different. He thought that when she came home things would be fine. That they could be friends. Judging by her fun and flirty emails, he was sure she was over the unmentionable incident. 

"Fine. Just busy. I can't believe I finally got away from my mom," she says through a laugh.

"Why'd she let you go?"

"I basically told her that I'm not 16 anymore and if she didn't like the way I was running my company, she could stop 'working for me.'"

"I bet that went over well."

Brooke laughs. "Better than you would think. She laughed it off and basically said it would do me some good to go – that maybe I would stop being such a chauvinistic bitch." Her voice falters a little and Lucas quickly looks at her. But she's staring out the window now, and he can't decipher the expression on her face.

Lucas clears his throat. "So do you want to drop your stuff off first, and then go see Peyton?"

"Sure. I'm staying at The Riverside."

He turns down Baker Street. "You know – you could just stay with me. I mean, I've got my mom's room. She and Lily won't be home from 'traveling the world' for a couple weeks."

There is a long silence before Brooke speaks. "I don't think that's such a good idea. Sorry."

Of course she wouldn't think it was a good idea, Lucas thinks, mentally slapping himself. Why doesn't he just invite Peyton too, and the three of them can live forever under the same roof and live happily ever after. God, he's dumb.

The ride lapses into another uncomfortable silence. They pull up to The Riverside, and Brooke pauses with her hand on the door. She turns to him.

"Maybe you should go meet Peyton alone."

"Why?" He's confused as to why she has such hesitation in seeing her best friend. "Hasn't it been like a year since you've seen her?"

"Yeah. It's not like I'm hiding out from her," she says quickly. "I just smell like plane, and I have to unpack." She pauses. "You should go meet her. Maybe I'll meet up with you guys later or something."

"Okay…" He watches as she gives him a quick smile, and pulls herself out of the car.

IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII

He almost doesn't recognize Peyton as she pulls up to her house, despite the fact that she's still driving her car from high school. Even as she's striding up the lawn, and he stands up from the porch steps, he doesn't really realize it's her. She's wearing skinny jeans, pumps, and a long silver camisole. And her hair is straight. Not cut in that teenage way she had senior year. But it hangs thinly down to her ribs, fringe bangs cutting across her forehead at an angle. She's taller too – almost model-like, and he has to blink, remembering that this is the girl who drew for THUD Magazine and liked NOFX.

"Lucas!" She smiles and pulls him into a hug.

"Hey." He's momentarily stunned by her rapid transformation since he saw her three months ago. "You look…" He's searching for words. "Great."

A wide smile spreads across her face and as she launches into a long jabber about her flight, and he pulls her suitcase into her house, he begins to see things at a different level.

She's fashionable – barely holding onto the edgy punk look she's always had. She no longer looks like goldilocks – her straight hair makes her blue eyes stand out against her pale skin. And all these things, save for the blonde hair, make him look like someone he knows.

She looks like Brooke.

IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII

They're sitting at a picnic table at the Rivercourt when Brooke shows up. She steps out of her rental, swinging her Chanel bag over her shoulder.

Lucas finds Peyton's sudden transformation into a style that matches Brooke's even odder as the brunette approaches. She's dressed in a pair of cut-offs and a long green halter. And though the two best friends look nothing alike, the way Peyton carries herself now reminds him a little too much of Brooke. A template that doesn't necessarily suit her.

"Peyton!" smiles Brooke as she pulls her old friend into a hug.

"Davis!" Peyton responds in a deep voice accompanied by a short laugh, returning the embrace.

Brooke steps back and eyes Peyton's hair. "You look great!"

Peyton eyes Brooke's waves, now tinted with a soft red. "So do you."

"So do you, Luke," adds Brooke, looking over Peyton's smile with a chuckle.

Lucas rolls his eyes at the teasing and stands up. "Thanks for the flattery."

"No problem. I know you're a little self conscious. Especially when you're wearing that shirt."

Lucas looks down. He's wearing a simple striped t-shirt. "What's wrong with it?" he asks defensively.

"Oh, you know," Brooke says through a giggle. "It's a little…"

"Wow thanks."

She raises an eyebrow at him. "I'm just kidding Broody," she says, quickly swatting him in the arm.

Lucas moves his eyes to Peyton, who he realizes is staring at the ground, looking unenthused by the banter between him and Brooke. Brooke also shifts her gaze to the blonde.

There is a short pause. "Well," says Brooke, breaking the silence. "I'm gonna' take off."

"But you just got here," protests Lucas, before he realizes he sounds whiny and clingy.

"I know. But I haven't seen Nathan and Haley in forever. And I don't want to wait until it's like midnight to drop by unannounced." She rests her hand on Lucas' arm for a seconds before pulling Peyton into another hug. "It was great to see you again, goldilocks. Call me tomorrow, kay?"

"Okay," responds Peyton with a small smile.

IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII

When she pulls into the driveway twenty minutes later, Peyton feels emotionally drained. As she enters the house, she flicks on the lights in the kitchen, fumbling with the coffee pot. Her dad doesn't dock until tomorrow, and she's considering crashing in his bed, because it's 10 times more comfortable then hers.

She absentmindedly reaches to play with a curl of hair, before realizing that there aren't any curls left. Her hair lies sleekly down her back, and she hasn't recognized that she misses her locks until now.

She's never really felt a desire to look or dress like her best friend before. Sure, as a teenager, Brooke got more attention from guys, but Peyton wasn't exactly ignored. And it's not like the change was gradual, as people might think, brought on from spending too much time out in LA. She doesn't like to think that she's doing this all to impress a guy. But, in a way, its true. She always thought Brooke would be the most insecure about the triangle that never really ended. But Peyton can pinpoint the day things changed.

_She hates herself for being a snoop. But Lucas has gone to make coffee, and his compute is just lying there, email open, just waiting to be read. _

_She's home again – pretending like nothing has changed. Like they haven't broken up – even though she was the one to initiate it – and that everything's okay. But every time she brings up their relationship, and hints at starting things up again, he changes the subject._

_She leans across the bed and clicks into his inbox. She scrolls down for awhile, ignoring boring notes from his editor. And then she spots a name she recognizes. _

_Brooke Davis._

_Clicking on Brooke's name, the computer flashes to a list of the continued correspondence between her and Lucas. There are at least 40 emails on the list. Peyton is dumbfounded. She opens the most recent._

Subject: Twin?

Hey Cheery,

So I saw this girl on the street today who I could have sworn was you. I almost went up to her, before I realized she was pushing a stroller. Logically, I figured you wouldn't have a baby without telling me. I hope.

But she had your curves. She had your shoulders, and your hips. She had your hair, and she had your feet (is it odd that I remember what your feet look like? How your second toe is longer than your first?) But she didn't have dimples. How unfortunate. To me, a girl without dimples is like cake without frosting. Except a cake without frosting analogy is more your style, I think. Remember the time you made me go all the way out to the store because your birthday cake didn't have enough chocolate icing on it? Yeah, good times.

Missing you,

Lucas.

Subject: RE: Twin?

What, didn't I tell you I'm now married with 8 children. How things have changed since we last spoke.

I'm not at all surprised you remember what my toes look like – considering you used to thoroughly enjoy kissing and nibbling them.

Am I not allowed to enjoy my sugar? I wouldn't exactly call myself a cow. Although I'm sure Rachel wouldn't mind calling me one. Anyway, I'm glad you didn't run up to that girl and hug her, because that would be awkward, would it not?

Anyway, I have to go. I'm on the phone with possibly the most boring woman in the world (is it that obvious that I'm talking about my mother?). But, on a final note, I'm surprised you can't handle a girl without dimples. It always seemed to me that you had a hard time handling me.

Just kidding.

xo,

Brooke.

* * *


	4. Dreaming and Blushing

**Soon Enough**

**_A/N: _**I'm surprised at how quickly I wrote this UD. The ending scene I was planning on using in a one-shot for months, but instead I used it here. I hope you all like that, and the rest of the chapter. Once again, thanks for all the wonderful reviews. And thanks to **Leah, **again :)

* * *

Chapter 3

Dreaming and Blushing

"So are you seeing anyone?" Haley asks for the first time this evening.

They are sitting in the living room of Nathan and Haley's exceptionally large house. It's only 9'Oclock – James is in bed and Nathan has just bid them goodnight to go watch the game on ESPN – but the wine that now sits on the coffee table in front of them is making Brooke sleepy and she has long since curled herself around a throw pillow.

She lifts her head at Haley's question. "No, why?"

Haley shrugs. "I was just wondering. You never told me what happened with Chase."

"We broke up like two years ago."

"I know. I was just kind-of surprised. You seemed to really love him."

Brooke shakes her head. She pauses. "I mean, yeah, I loved him – you're right." It was true – saying it had felt right. "I'm just not sure I was _in _love with him."

Haley nods. She understands. She had never failed to notice that Lucas was the only boy Brooke had ever been in love with. The brunette had seemed to crack after the break-up – emotionally and physically. She got thinner (no one else but Haley noticed), all curves except for her hips seemed to disappear. And she was broken – going around sleeping with teachers, making cruel-hearted jokes about her best friends, stealing a calculus test. She seemed simply lost – as though she thought letting go of Lucas would help her find herself, when in reality it did just the opposite.

And then along came Chase. The perfect stability Brooke needed in her life. And for awhile, Haley thought everything was fine. Lucas and Peyton were happy, Brooke and Chase were happy.

But then Haley began to see things more closely. She saw how eagerly Brooke had accepted Chase – needing simply something to make her forget. Forget the way Lucas looked at prom, forget the image of him and Peyton in Honeygrove, and forget the tears that fell onto the page of his book as she read the passage he had written about her.

Haley is Brooke's strongest confidant. Haley hadn't really realized it until Brooke had come knocking on her door after the renewal of the vows, and the accident. And how in a matter of seconds, Brooke's biggest secret had come spilling out – one she couldn't tell Peyton, one she didn't have the heart to tell Lucas.

In that moment, Brooke became more important to Haley than Lucas was. In that moment, Brooke made Haley swear to never tell Lucas.

Haley kept the promise.

She still wishes she had told Lucas.

"So what happened exactly?" the question is soft, non-accusatory. "With Chase."

Brooke sighs and looks up at Haley. And her eyes say it all.

_"Babe, I know you're trying to be hospitable and all, but lets face it, you can't cook."_

_Still not used to the pet name, Brooke laughs only lightly. She's standing in the kitchen, throwing her failed attempt at ravioli down the garbage disposable. "The menus are in my nightstand."_

_Chase laughs and disappears into her bedroom. Brooke retreats to the living room with her wine glass, sitting down on the couch and propping up her feet on the coffee table._

_Brooke is pleasantly surprised that the long distance thing has worked out so well for the two of them. Chase goes to UCLA, but comes and visits once a month, and she has to fly out to LA all the time anyway for conferences. They took a break for a few months, when they had begun to fight more and more, but the morning after Lucas' visit to New York, she had boarded a flight to LA and reunited with Chase – needing anything to mend her broken heart - or whatever she was feeling. _

_Chase emerges from her bedroom with a sad smile on his face. He's carrying her laptop, and even before he places it in front of her, she knows what she's going to find._

_Her email. Open._

Subject: Dreaming

Cheery,

I had a dream about you last night. And no, not a dirty dream (since that's the conclusion you seem to normally jump to). I don't remember exactly what it was about but it definitely had something to do with what we were telling the buggy driver that night. About how we would have three kids – two boys and a girl?

In my dream, I could definitely picture one of the girls – probably because she looked exactly like you, right down to her dimples, green eyes, and brown hair. And she talked like you and laughed like you. And her name was Sophia.

Lucas

IIIIIIIIIIIIIII

Subject: RE: Dreaming.

Broody,

But dirty dreams are the _best _kind. God knows you've had enough of them.

I always pictured our girl to look like me and act like you, and the two boys to have my hair and your features. And her name was Sophia? You're just saying that because of that night senior year when I got totally drunk (and you _let _me!) and told you that we were going to have a baby girl named Sophia some day. Remember?

xo

Brooke

_She looks up from the emails, stumbling across the right words to say, but none come._

_"What is this?" his tone is soft and sad._

_"T-their just emails."_

_"Brooke." He closes the laptop and sits on the coffee table in front of her. "You and me both know, these aren't _just _emails."_

_"But…"_

_"You've got to choose Brooke. Is it me – or is it him?"_

_She wants to scream that it's Chase – Chase is who she wants. Somehow, the words don't come. She looks up at him, her eyes filled with tears. And that's her answer. _

_"It's him. It's always been him." Those are his last words as he stands from the coffee table and pulls his coat off the hook by the door. He looks back at her one last time before disappearing out her front door._

_She doesn't even try to stop him._

"Brooke. Brooke!" Brooke awakens suddenly to Haley's pushes on her arm. She had fallen asleep when Haley had gone into the kitchen to put away the wine glasses, and now her entire body is relaxed into the couch.

"Why don't you crash in the guest room?" Haley's suggestion is calming and logical. There's no sense in making Brooke drive all the way back to the Riverside when she could easily fall asleep at the wheel, and has probably had too much wine.

The brunette nods sleepily and lets Haley guide her to the dark guest room on the second floor. After falling out of her jeans and slipping into a pair of Haley's pajamas, Brooke collapses on the bed and lets sleep take her.

IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII

She awakes feeling absolutely dead to the world. She checks the clock. It's 10:30. This may have been the first time in 4 years she's slept for 10 and a half hours. The shades on the windows are closed but a sliver of light sneaks in between them, and with a groan Brooke pulls herself from the bed.

The guest bathroom lies adjacent to the bedroom, but can still be reached from another door in the hall. She pads onto the cool tile and lifts her shirt over her head. After discarding her pajama bottoms, she reaches over the edge of the tub and turns on the water.

Hot steam escapes from the nozzle and Brooke steps under the jet of water. She lets the scalding water beat down on her back, and she gently unties her hair, letting her locks fall under the shower.

After a few minutes she begins to wonder when the last time she enjoyed a shower this much was. Normally she gets five minutes under the water in the morning – and that time is most often spent planning out her day.

But today she has no plans. Today she is free.

IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII

He's on his sixth mile. He knows this because it's 6 miles to Nathan and Haley's and their house is looming in the distance. Lucas smiles to himself. More often than not, this is his weekend ritual. He goes for his jog on Saturday mornings and stops by Nathan and Haley's to mooch some breakfast off of them.

As he reaches their driveway, he pulls his headphones from his ears and punches out the password for the gate. With a small creak, the gate slides open, and he starts up the lush lawn.

He enters the house from the side door, and is hit by a strong whiff of blueberries. To his surprise, he finds Nathan at the stove flipping pancakes.

"Since when do you cook?" asks Lucas, grabbing a bottle of water at the fridge, and throwing himself down on the kitchen stool.

"Since I realized making two million dollars a year isn't everything, and it's nice to give your wife a morning off once in a while." Nathan lowers the heat on the griddle and wrinkles his nose at Lucas. "Go take a shower, dude, you reek."

Lucas laughs. "In my defense, it's hotter out than usual." With a grin, he pushes the stool back and exits the kitchen, making his way up the stairs.

He nears the bathroom at the end of the hall and, a bit prematurely, pulls his shirt over his head. Pushing the door open and entering the bathroom, he's met by a surprised scream.

"Lucas!" It takes a few seconds for him to register that he's just walked in on Brooke in the shower. And after he _does _realize it, he kind-of just stands there, dumbfounded, staring at her. She hasn't made a huge attempt to cover up – she's simply turned her body slightly away from him, and moved her arms over her chest. But he can still see her curves, the way her hips glide smoothly into her thighs. He can still see the smoothness of her shoulders, and the flatness of her stomach, and the small hole where her belly button caves in. And he can't look away.

IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII

There is a few seconds of an awkward pause where neither of them say anything. Brooke is surprised that Lucas has yet to avert his eyes, but as soon as she clears her throat, his eyes fly up to her face, as if he was caught in the act of looking at something he shouldn't have been looking at.

"Oh, god, I-I'm sorry." He hurriedly tries to back out of the bathroom, but instead misses the door, and falls against the wall. As his eyes now travel down to the floor, he seeming more embarrassed than her, Brooke realizes that he's not exactly fully dressed either. He's clasping his t-shirt in one hand, and the sweat glistens off his chest in a way that makes her go slightly weak in the knees. It's her turn now to blush as he mumbles another apology before stepping out of the bathroom, pulling the door closed behind him.

The last thing she sees before the door slams shut is a glimpse of an ink outline on his right shoulder.

And, letting her hand fall to the same tracing on her inner hip, she has to smile.

* * *


	5. Fortunate Fool

**Soon Enough**

**_A/N: _**Thank you all for the lovely reviews! I know it's been longer than usual since I updated, but school has been hectic, and I haven't had a chance to write until tonight. So I hope you all like the chapter!

* * *

**Chapter 4**

Fortunate Fool

_Right now, she doesn't want to be anywhere else._

_Her foot is asleep, and she's exhausted and has bags under her eyes from the lack of sleep. They've been driving for what seems like hours, and she's been hungry for that long. Nathan's tape deck is broken and has been playing a god-awful song called "Holiday" on repeat since they got in the car. Still, right now, she doesn't want to be anywhere else._

_It's just past 11 am, and the sun is spilling across the backseat. Her legs are stretched out – her boots knocking against the car door, and her head is rested against Lucas' chest. He's absentmindedly playing with a lock of her hair. He smells like her lotion._

_He keeps finding ways to touch her this weekend – especially since last night. God, last night. She wasn't sure it was possible to feel that good, and yet, she had. Last night, the sex, wasn't just about sex. For either of them. And he's letting her know that right now, by the way his hand falls onto her hip, and by the way he's whispering sweet nothingness into her ear as she closes her eyes, and lets her body absorb the bumpiness of the car ride. _

_She realizes that with every turn of the car wheels, they're getting closer and closer to home. Not an inch of her wants to go back. Her initial disgust at having to spend a weekend with Rachel was immediately diminished by their arrival at the cabin. She doesn't want to go home to a place where Lucas is constantly reminded of what he lost. A Lucas that's so full of anger that he's forgot to remember to love._

* * *

Brooke Davis pulls the fluffy towel around her clean body and reaches across the sink to wipe the steam off the mirror. With a sigh of exasperation, she rakes her fingers through her wet hair, not bothering to drag a comb through it.

She enters the bedroom, unfazed by donning her clothes from yesterday (she'll just change when she gets back to the hotel anyway), and gathers her hair in a messy bun. Pulling her shirt over her head, and stepping into her fades jeans, she exits the room, making her way down the staircase.

As she approaches the kitchen, she hears voices, smiling as she discerns Nathan's playfully annoyed banter from Haley's fake reproachful tone. She enters the room to be met by a roar of laughter on Nathan's part. Her eyes move to Lucas, who's now freshly showered (most likely in Nathan and Haley's master bathroom), seated at the counter, stabbing pancakes with his fork and rolling his eyes.

Nathan's laugh turns into a giggle. "Nice job locking the bathroom door, Brooke."

It's Brooke's turn to roll her eyes now. She takes a seat at the counter next to Lucas and reaches for the coffee pot. "It's not my fault that your brother enjoys taking showers in your house, rather than his own."

"I wouldn't talk," says Lucas through a smile.

Brooke shrugs. "I'm homeless – at least in Tree Hill. I have an excuse."

"As much as I enjoy listening to this pointless conversation, I have to go pry Jamie away from Spongebob and harass him to get some fresh air," says Haley, moving towards the door."

"And I have to go shower," said Nathan following her. "And I'll remember to _lock the door," _he finishes, waggling his eyebrows at Brooke as he disappears out of the kitchen.

"I should probably go," says Lucas after a few minutes of sipping their coffee in silence. "I've got a deadline on Monday, and kind-of bailed on my plans to write last night."

Brooke nods. "I can give you a ride if you want. I should probably get back to the hotel anyway. I'm sure there have already been multiple crises at work since I last checked."

"And you're always saving the day," says Lucas without a hint of sarcasm as they stands from the counter.

"So, you've still got the tattoo." He doesn't exactly know what compelled him to bring it up, and is afraid that he may have crossed the line, but as he looks quickly to her in the drivers seat, a smile spreads across her face.

"Were you expecting me to get it removed?" she asks with a laugh as she signals for a right turn.

He hadn't, exactly. "No, it's just I thought you may have wanted a more "professional" look."

She laughs again. "It's not as if my everyday clientele are seeing it, or anyone for that matter." The words kind-of slip out of her mouth before she can stop them, and it takes her a moment to realize that she's just implied that she's not sleeping with anyone, or hasn't been for awhile.

He hasn't made the connection, she realizes, as she gives him a quick look. Because she doesn't know how shocked he will be when he finds out that she hasn't had sex in almost two years. She doesn't know whether he would find that fact admiring, or normal, or just plain weird. That, since him, she's slept with two guys. Nick, and Chase.

That's it.

"Besides," she said, quickly continuing her train of thought. "You didn't get yours removed."

He smirks. "You were looking?"

"It's not like it's exactly easy to miss," responds Brooke.

Lucas laughs. "Yeah, well, there was a period where Peyton was really set on having me take it off."

Brooke raises her eyebrows, surprised. "Really?"

"Yeah. She said it wasn't exactly fitting for my body."

"I think that's code for 'I would like you to remove all reminders of your ex-girlfriend from your life, please.'"

They both laugh.

Brooke knows that Peyton has never been blind to the fact that Brooke and Lucas have intentionally matching tattoos. Afterall, Peyton had accompanied Brooke to the tattoo parlor the day she decided to 'permanently scar yourself forever,' in Peyton's words. And when the same ink marking had showed up on Lucas' shoulder, you didn't have to be dumb to put two and two together.

* * *

She's been waiting for nearly twenty minutes on his front steps when he finally turns the corner and comes walking up the sidewalk. She stands from where she is, and doesn't go out to greet him – she lets him walk up to her.

"Where have you been?"

Lucas looks confused. "I was at Nathan and Haley's."

"What about breakfast?" Peyton points to her watch.

He claps a hand to his forehead. "I totally forgot! I'm sorry." He seems sincere, and she unclenches, letting herself smile slightly. "It's okay. So do you want to go now?"

He looks kind-of uncomfortable, and she sighs, before answering her own question. "But now you have to work. Right."

"It's just – I have this deadline on Monday, and…"

"Lucas, it's fine." Peyton holds up a hand. "I'll call you later, okay?"

He nods, his face overpowered with guilt. It's starting to feel like their back in a relationship. As she walks away, clearly annoyed, he shakes his head, walking slowly up his front steps. He shouldn't feel this way. He shouldn't have to feel guilty about not being around to entertain her.

He's wondering if maybe the guilt isn't coming from _not_ spending the morning with Peyton, but instead from spending it with Brooke. Was that it? Does he really, in a way, feel like he's cheating on his ex-girlfriend?

He shakes his head. No, that would be crazy.

* * *

The hotel room phone is ringing as she throws her purse onto the bed. Muttering a curse, she looks to her iphone, realizing that her battery is dead. Someone could have been trying to reach her for hours.

"Hello?"

"Brooke?" Her mother's voice cuts through the line like steel, and Brooke lets out a little groan as she sinks onto the bed. "Where have you been? I've been calling you every five minutes since for the past two hours."

"Well you've got me now. What's wrong."

"You need to get back to the city, now."

"I thought you said you could handle things, mom." Brooke sits up a little straighter on her bed – slightly more alert.

"Of course I can handle things. It's you I'm worried about."

For a split second, Brooke wonders if her mother is actually concerned for her well being. But the outrageous thought disperses as Lydia continues talking.

"This little trip of yours is completely unproductive and is distracting you from your work."

"Mom, the point of a vacation is to relax. I can't relax if I'm dealing with work all the time. Besides…" She realizes at this point her mom isn't just letting her off that easy. She needs a better excuse. "I'm looking into real estate down here." The lie pops into her head and rolls off her tongue easily.

"To live?" Her mothers voice is incredulous

"No, for marketing. I'm interested in opening a boutique down here."

And Lydia buys it. And to Brooke's surprise, her mom actually likes the idea. But as her mother begins to drone on and on about how this will expand their target audience and also spread their recognition, Brooke tones her words out. She begins to think about the lie she's just created.

How maybe it wouldn't be such a bad idea.

* * *

Please review!

Emma


	6. Brace Yourself

**Soon Enough **

**_A/N: _**yes, it's been awhile. But here's an UD. And please keep reviewing :)

* * *

**Chapter 5**

Brace Yourself

"I need your help." The door of Brooke's hotel room bangs open and Brooke barely has time to turn around in the desk chair before Peyton has flopped on her bed with a groan.

Brooke holds up a finger to the pouting blonde and speaks into the phone. "Okay, well thank you. Tell me if you find anything else…Great, bye." She hangs up. "What's wrong?"

Peyton sighs. "Lucas."

"Ugh…something's always wrong with Lucas. He's like a cursed rabbit's foot," Brooke jokes as she joins her best friend on the bed, propping Peyton's feet over the brunette's legs.

"He's just so…distant."

Brooke shrugs. "The only reason it should matter is if you want his attention. Do you want him back?"

Peyton shrugs, tracing the pattern on the bed quilt. "I don't know. I thought that being friends would be a good thing. And it is – it's been great. But in a way, I still kind-of feel like he's mine – you know?"

Brooke nods. She wonder's if she should tell Peyton the truth – that she doesn't know. She doesn't know the feeling of being "friends" with Lucas. Brooke and Lucas were never "just" friends. They could never be "just" friends. They'd tried it junior year. Of course, that ended with a long suppressed declaration of love on Lucas' part.

"_I wanna' be with you, Brooke."_

When they broke up senior year, neither of them really put in an attempt to keep a strong friendship. Brooke told herself that it was just cause they didn't have that much in common.

The truth was, it was too hard. Too hard to look at each other and not crack. Not break.

Right now is the first time in a long time that she's felt comfortable being friends with Lucas. Real friends. Friends who can help each other in a crisis.

Friends like her and Peyton.

Peyton continues. "I mean, he even forgot that we were supposed to have breakfast yesterday."

"When I drove him home he said he had a huge deadline. He was probably just really distracted."

There is a silence. Then, "he told me he was at Nathan and Haley's."

Brooke is confused for a second. "He was. We both were. I slept at their house the night before."

"So he was with you."

Now it dawns on Brooke what Peyton is getting at. "No," she says quickly. "Well, yeah. But I mean, we were eating with Nathan and Haley. And he didn't even know I was there until – "

"Until what?"

"I came downstairs." Brooke had come very close to revealing to Peyton that Lucas had walked in on her in the shower. Not that it was a huge deal or anything. "Anyway, I think he's just really stressed and – "

"Yeah," Peyton nods, cutting Brooke off. She stands up from the bed. "Listen, I've got to go."

"Okay," Brooke says slowly, handing Peyton her purse. "Are you sure? I was thinking we could get lunch or something."

Peyton shakes her head. "I've got a conference call in about a half an hour. I should get home.

Brooke nods. "Wait, Peyton." Peyton pauses at the door. "I forgot to tell you."

"What?" Peyton looks annoyed, bothered by the new information that Lucas had neglected to share with her.

Brooke opens her mouth. "Nevermind," she says with a short smile. "I'll talk to you later.

And then Peyton is gone.

* * *

_She shouldn't be snooping, but she's looking for her favorite pair of jeans, and since they're not at her apartment in LA, they must be here. Lucas has gone off on some mysterious errand, but tells her to sit tight, that he has a surprise for her when he gets home. _

_Peyton is reaching into the top shelf of his closet when she finds the letters. Her hands bump into a cardboard box, and, curious as she always is, she pulls it down. _

_The shoebox is faded and worn at the edges, and at first she assumes it's his "Peyton box." This is before she remembers him throwing that box away as soon as he and Brooke had gotten together senior year. But maybe he has a new Peyton box._

_She pulls off the lid and is momentarily confused. The box is filled with a stack of various colored and shaped envelopes._

Lucas Scott

1829 Burnette Drive

Tree Hill, NC, 01982

Lucas Scott

1829 Burnette Drive

Tree Hill, NC, 01982

Lucas Scott

1829 Burnette Drive

Tree Hill, NC, 01982

_It only takes her a few seconds to recognize the curly floppy scrawl that covers all of them._

_It's Brooke's handwriting._

_Peyton stomach flips over. Her hands shake as she opens the letter on the very top of the pile._

June 21st, 2005

Dear Lucas,

We're flying over the Grand Canyon right now. The pilot just came on, telling us that we're going land in about an hour and a half. Good thing too. I can't wait to stretch out on the beach and get my summer tan going – don't worry, I'll wear sunscreen.

I know I'm kind-of avoiding the big thing on my mind right now – the whole reason I wrote this letter. But I'm stalling – because I need to figure out what to say.

I'm not an eloquent speaker. Everyone knows that about me. You gave me the words "Remember tonight for it is the beginning of always." You gave me "The courage of life is a magnificent mixture triumph and tragedy."

George Bernard Shaw once wrote: "There are two tragedies in life. One is to lose your hearts desire. The other is to gain it." This is what we wrote our English essay about this year, Luke. And this quote is entirely true.

I lost you this year. I lost my hearts desire. And that was almost too much tragedy for me to handle. I brushed you off – got angry, got bitchy, got slutty. But realizing it now, these were all ways for me to fight off what I was really feeling. I was really feeling sad. Heartbroken. Angry. Because no matter how hard I tried – no matter how many times I slapped Peyton or talked back to you – I could never truly hate you. No, it was just the opposite.

If gaining your hearts desire is a tragedy, then you can see why I ran. I can see why I'm confused. My cab driver can see why I cried the whole way to the airport.

That kiss gave me everything I could've hoped for Lucas. It gave me you.

But I'm not sure how much more tragedy my heart can take.

Love,

Brooke

_She stuffs the letter back into the envelope and slams the lid closed. Why did he keep these? She asks herself as she rummages through the rest of the letters, not having the heart to open anymore of them. She understands now how Brooke must have felt when she found Lucas' "Peyton box." Only this wasn't just a box of things from his and her best friend's relationship. This was a box of 82 declarations of love from Brooke Davis. _

_It's not often that Brooke Davis declares her love for anyone._

_It now dawns on her what he must have been reading last night when Peyton had bounded into the bedroom and he had hurriedly stuffed something into his nightstand with a guilty look on his face. _

_She moves across the room in a rage and pulls open the drawer of his bedside table. There is it. One lonely letter. This one printed on white paper with blue ink. She opens the envelope and pulls out the stationary._

Dear Lucas,

It's the first day of the school year and I just made a complete and total fool of myself in front of you. Did I honestly think that seducing you was going to work? Well, yeah I did. I guess I just didn't think you'd have the power to resist.

Luke, this is my last letter to you. And who knows if you're ever going to see this. Your probably going to get sick of my non-exclusive crap and move on to better things. And I will be left alone, blaming myself for pushing you away.

I don't even know what I want from you. Do I want another embarrassing speech from you like you gave last week on the beach? Do I want your undivided attention every second of everyday?

I just want you, Luke. I want your broodiness. I want to watch you smile, hear you laugh, wake up to your blue eyes everyday. I want to be able to cheer for only you at the games, and to be able to tell people, "That's my boyfriend, Lucas Scott. It's our anniversary." I want us to be _the _couple. The one couple that everyone "aww's" at when they walk by. The couple that teachers have to tell to stop making out during class. The couple that holds hands when they walk down the hallway.

I want to be able to kiss you everyday. I want that terrified, yet amazing feeling of being in love. I want to be able to say that I married my high school sweetheart, and that he was the first and only boy I every loved.

I want you, Luke.

Love,

Brooke

_She doesn't even realize he's entered the room until she looks up and sees the terrified look on his face. And then her eyes move to the tiny box in his hand._

_And it dawns on her that he is going to propose._

Was _going to propose._

_"Peyton…" he tries to explain, but in only a few seconds she's yelling, and then he's yelling, and then she's crying. And she's trying to understand why he held onto those letters, and he can't give her an answer._

_And now she's telling him that he can't propose just because their relationship is falling apart, and he tells her that that's _not _why he's proposing. But she can tell he's lying._

_So she leaves._

* * *

"So my mom and Lily are coming home tomorrow," Lucas says into the phone.

Brooke squeals on the other end of the line. "Oh my god! I haven't seen Lily in so long!"

Lucas smiles. "I think we're having a joint birthday party for her and James on Saturday.

"Wow, thanks for the advance notice," says Brooke sarcastically. It's Wednesday afternoon and she'll have to spend the rest of the week buying them both tons of gifts to spoil them with.

Lucas laughs. "So any luck with the real estate hunting?"

Brooke sighs. "No. Every place I've looked at is either in the middle of nowhere, too small, too big, or not available for another year."

"So what's the rush?"

"It gives me an excuse to stay down here," Brooke admits. "I can't let my mom think that I'm here for any reason other than my job."

"So why are you here?"

Brooke blushes slightly into the phone. "For Nathan, and Haley. And for me. And for Jamie. For Peyton…and for you."

Lucas smiles.

* * *


	7. She Looks to Me

**Soon Enough**

**_A/N: _**Here's another update. Yes, it's been awhile, but I've been dealing with some things, so please forgive me. I hope you all like this chapter. It's kind-of a shocker.

Enjoy!

* * *

**Chapter 6**

She Looks to Me**  
**

It's Saturday afternoon and Brooke is already late. In essence it's not her fault. She likes to pretend that she had no choice in spending five hours in conference calls this morning, when in reality, she could have just told her mom to handle it. But that would have required Brooke to get on the phone with her mother – something she _never_enjoyed doing.

She pulls up to Nathan and Haley's house and sees that a short line of cars are already parked along the driveway. Opening her trunk and gathering in her arms the numerous packages, she walks along the side of the house to get to the backyard.

She emerges in the back and the first thing she's met with is a whirlwind of a small boy, flinging himself into her arms.

"Aunt Brooke!" Jamie has catapulted himself at her, and Brooke is out of breath, laughing as she almost drops the presents.

Nathan is walking over now. "Jamie! Don't attack your Aunt Brooke," he says, gathering up the boy and throwing him over his shoulder. Jamie begins to emit screams of mirth and pound his father on the back with his fists. With a smirk, Nathan takes the packages from Brooke.

"Thanks," she says with a smile, following him to the table where an assortment of food is set up.

"So where is everyone?" asks Brooke, looking around the seemingly deserted yard. "I thought I was late."

"Karen and Lily are icing the cake. And Peyton and Haley are blowing up more balloons in the living room. Luke should be here by now," he adds, checking his watch. "I'm sure he'll be here soon."

Leaving father and son to run around the yard, Brooke ventures into the kitchen where she finds a women standing around a bowl, and a little girl laughing hysterically on the counter.

Karen sees her first. "Brooke!" she exclaims, walking around the counter to hug the brunette.

Brooke squeals, enveloping Karen in a warm embrace. "Karen! How have you been?"

Karen opens her mouth to speak, but there is a small tugging on the bottom of Brooke's dress and she looks down to see a four year old Lily smiling shyly up at her.

"Hey, Lily." Brooke crouches down so she is level with the small girl. Karen's daughter has long brown hair and dark chocolate eyes. She's wearing the dress that Brooke sent to her on her last birthday.

"You're Brooke," says Lily solemnly, enamored by the adult in front of her.

Brooke looks up to Karen who's smiling softly. "Lucas has told her about you."

Brooke looks back to Lily and for an instant is giddy by Karen's last statement.

"I've heard a lot about you Lily. You know, the last time I saw you, you were 'this big,'" she says, holding her arm about two feet off the ground."

Lily's eyes widen. "Did you bring me a present?"

Brooke laughs. "Come on, sweetie, she says, holding out her hand for the small girl. "Let me show you.

* * *

It's about 5:00 and finally Lucas has arrived. He's apologizing to Nathan and Haley, and depositing his presents for the two children on the table. He looks briefly over to the lawn, and that's when he sees her, sitting on the grass, letting Lily and James draw on her hands.

He tries to pretend his heart doesn't skip a beat when he sees her, and that he's not secretly glad he wore his black button down shirt that he had been wearing on _that _night (the shirt she had told him he looked sexy in), and that he's not completely taken aback by how breathtaking she looks.

She's wearing a green flowered summer dress that extends to her knees and ties in a halter behind her shoulders. Her hair is set in soft waves to her shoulder, the red tint in it ever so present in the evening sun. Her feet are tucked under her, the edges of her sandals peeking out from her dress.

"Lucas!" He reluctantly tears his eyes away from Brooke to be met by Peyton's expectant expression.

He realizes that she's been calling for him for the past few seconds, beckoning him over to the chairs that line the patio. Looking to Brooke one last time, her eyes meet his and she gives him a soft smile, before returning her attention to Lily and James.

"Hey Peyt," he says, sinking into a chair next to her.

"Brooke looks nice, doesn't she," says Peyton somewhat absentmindedly, looking at her best friend.

Lucas looks at Brooke, and then at Peyton, wondering if it's a trick question. "Yeah, she does. So do you," he adds after a minute.

Peyton smiles, but only slightly. There's a short silence before she speaks again. "Things are never going to be how they used to, are they?"

"With what?"

Peyton opens her mouth once more, and then steals one last look at her best friend. She places her eyes back on Lucas, and responds in almost a sad voice. "Nevermind."

Before he can ask her again, she stands and retreats to the table to talk with Haley.

So he puts his eyes back on Brooke.

* * *

The barbecue is lit, and Nathan and Lucas are attempting to cook burgers. Brooke is sitting on the patio chairs, peeling the label off her bottle of pier, when Karen comes to sit next to her. 

"How's your life Brooke?"

Brooke smiles, always comfortable with her conversations. "It's good," she says, faltering slightly. "I mean, this is the first vacation I've had since I graduated high school, and yet I'm still on the phone 24/7. It doesn't really feel like a vacation. Except on days like this," she finishes.

Karen nods.

"How was traveling the world?"

"It was actually really amazing. I wanted to go with Lily before she had to start kindergarten, and we had an incredible time. I'm glad to be home now, though."

There is a short silence as the two women look out over the lawn where Jamie and Lily are pushing each other on the swings. "So Lucas told me you're looking for a place to open a boutique."

Brooke blushes only slightly, wondering how much Lucas talks to his mom and sister about her. "Yeah, well, I'm trying. I haven't seen anywhere decent."

"Well, you know, since I've been home, I've been toying with the idea of buying the space next to Tric and turning it into a restaurant."

"Wow, Karen, I think that's a great idea. You've really got a good head for business."

"The thing is, I can't manage 3 businesses at once. I'm thinking of selling the café and using that money to get started on the restaurant." Karen looks at Brooke with a smile. "How do you like the idea of buying the café from me, and turning it into your boutique?"

Brooke is shocked for a minute, and then immediately excited. "That is an _amazing_idea, Karen. Thank you!"

"Don't thank me," laughs Karen. She nods to her son at the barbeque. "It was his idea."

* * *

Dinner is over, presents have been opened, and Lucas is putting Jamie to bed. Karen has left with a sleeping Lily over her shoulder, and Peyton and Nathan are cleaning up the kitchen. 

It's nearly 9 and the night has turned chilly. There is still the tiniest bit of light left in the sky, but the porch lights are turned on, and Nathan has started a fire in the outside fireplace. Haley and Brooke are curled up on the patio chairs under blankets, sipping red wine and talking quietly.

The serenity of the evening has settled Brooke and she never really wants to leave from where she sits right now. Her conversation with Haley has lapsed into a comfortable silence until Brooke speaks up.

"Hales, do you ever imagine your life without Jamie? Like, if you had never gotten pregnant."

Haley considers the question. "Sometimes, yeah. Would Nathan and I fought so hard through the rough times, or would we have given up? Would we be as happy? Would I be teaching, or would I be singing, or would I have a completely different life?" She pauses. "But then Jamie wakes me up from my thoughts, screaming for me that he fell down or that he wants some ice cream, and that all kind-of fades away. I can't imagine life without him."

All of a sudden Haley realizes what Brooke is thinking, and steals a glance at her best friend. Darkness has now fallen all the way, but Brooke's face is lit up by the crackling flames of the fire, and Haley can see a lone tear slip down her face.

_Haley is Brooke's strongest confidant. Haley hadn't really realized it until Brooke had come knocking on her door after the renewal of the vows, and the accident. And how in a matter of seconds, Brooke's biggest secret had come spilling out – one she couldn't tell Peyton, one she didn't have the heart to tell Lucas._

_In that moment, Brooke became more important to Haley than Lucas was. In that moment, Brooke made Haley swear to never tell Lucas._

_Haley kept the promise._

_She still wishes she had told Lucas._

"Brooke," is all Haley can say as she places a hand on Brooke's knee.

_"Hey, look, I know it's really late and it's been a long day, but I need to talk to you."_

"I just…it's just…sometimes I wonder, you know?" Her voice is a breathless ragged whisper. "If I hadn't ever lost the baby, would I have had the strength to keep it? To stay with Lucas?"

There are more tears streaming down her face now, and Haley doesn't really know what to say. They've never really talked about this before – not since it happened. Brooke never wanted to. But as she opens her mouth to say something, anything, another voice is heard.

"Brooke?"

_"It's just, I'm stressed out about the wedding, and Haley's dress, and I'm late…I'm late to get ready, and I'm sorry."_

It's strangled, shocked, hurt. And the two girls look up to see Lucas standing in the doorway to the patio, staring straight at Brooke, begging her with his eyes to tell him it wasn't true. It _can't _be true.

_"I'm not pregnant, okay? I promise."_

Haley knows this isn't a moment she should witness, so she untangles herself from Brooke and quickly brushes past Lucas into the kitchen. Brooke stares straight into the fire, unable to let herself look at him.

He doesn't know what to do at first, so he walks over to her, and sits down on the coffee table. He places a hand on her knee but she pushes it away, wiping the tears from her eyes.

"Brooke," he says, for the second time. "What…"

"It happened at Rachel's cabin, I mean, if I calculated right. I found out the night before the wedding. The same night that Peyton told me she was still in love with you."

Lucas isn't even quite sure of what he's hearing, and he doesn't know if her even wants to.

She's crying for real now, those silent tears that broke his heart. "And I didn't know what to do, so I waited. And then after we broke up I was gonna' tell you, but I didn't know how."

She stops for a minute.

"And then I lost it. And all I had to do was pretend like it never happened. And keep lying."

_"Luke, I told you I wasn't pregnant, okay. Do you think I would lie to you?"_

He is dumbfounded, lost somewhere between shocked and upset. So he just sits there, unable to form words.

Neither of them notices Peyton in the doorway.


	8. Snapshots of a Broken Girl: An Interlude

**Soon Enough**

_**A/N: **_And Emma's back with another UD. I'm loving all your reviews – they make me really happy.

Muchas gracias to Chey who read the first half of this and attempted to convince me that it didn't suck, and to Lynn who gave me motivation to actually finish this chapter.

The next chapter wont be too far away because I actually had most of it finished before I even decided to put this chapter in.

This chapter is a little different. You'll see what I mean. Just make sure you read the date. :)

* * *

**Chapter 7**

Snapshots of a Broken Girl

**2007**

"Fuck," Brooke mutters as she finishes heaving into the toilet. Extending a hand outward, she reaches blindly for the handle, hearing a loud wooshing as the toilet flushes. She crouches there on the bathroom floor for another minute. Then, bracing herself against the sink, she stands, and begins to wash out her mouth with the cold water from the tap.

She looks up into the mirror, which has one crack running along the top of it from when she chucked a hairdryer at Haley "accidentally" when they were fighting about something trivial. Her hair is tied up haphazardly – her eyes have dark circles under them from the lack of sleep.

She should have gotten her period 4 days ago. She's been throwing up at least once a day for a week. And for some reason she has an extra birth control pill, meaning she was a dumbass and missed a day.

These all add up to one thing.

_Fuck. _

-------------

She feels like one of those celebrities hiding from the paparazzi because she's leaving the house in an oversized sweatshirt, aviator sunglass, and a baseball hat.

She drives to the pharmacy that's at the very edge of town and practically cleans out the shelves of pregnancy tests. Just to be sure. She doesn't want another incident like junior year.

As she stands in line at the register, behind an 80-year-old woman who is trying to pay exact change for cough medicine costing $5.99, she contemplates the absurdity of this situation. That she needs to go to such extents to stop the rumors of Brooke Davis, captain of the cheerleaders, being pregnant with captain of the Ravens, Lucas Scott's baby.

But the one thing everyone loves in Tree Hill is gossip.

--------------

She gets home and locks herself in the bathroom, dumping the tests out on the floor. She fumbles nervously as she opens the first one, and confuses herself with the directions, wondering how stupid she has to be to not be able to figure out how to pee on a stick. For a minute, crouched there on the bathroom floor, she wishes for Lucas. Wishes that she wasn't going through this alone.

But Lucas is on the other side of the state somewhere, planning his future without her, forgetting to call her. Brooke wonders if she's being completely needy by wishing he would just check in on her once or twice.

She considers calling him now – pressing 2 on her speed dial, listening to his soft voice comfort her across the connection. She considers calling him and telling him everything. Brooke imagines him rushing home, holding her hand, telling her that everything would be okay.

But it's been less than a month since Keith died and she doesn't want to burden him anymore – at least not until completely necessary. So she's doing this alone.

-------------

12 of 13 of the tests read positive. She wants to believe the one that reads negative, but even Brooke isn't that optimistic.

She's starting to feel nauseous again so gathers the used tests in a plastic bag and shoves them to the bottom of the wastebasket so Peyton doesn't see them. Then she retreats to the bedroom, closes the blinds, climbs into bed, pulls the covers over her head and attempts to sleep.

-----------

Brooke is standing backstage at Tric, attempting to rehearse her lines. She's getting those butterflies in her stomach that always accompany stage fright, only right now she figures that they're more due to the impending arrival of Lucas – and what she has to tell him.

She feels like when he comes, that she'll know what to do. That when he holds her, everything will be all right again.

"Hi, pretty girl." She feels hands around her waist, and jumps, turning around to face her boyfriend.

As she gives a squeal of delight, hugs him, stares into his soft blue eyes, she realizes something.

Everything doesn't feel all right.

-------------

"So I know you collapsed tonight on the court, Nathan, but I was hoping you might wanna' spend the night and get a little freaky." The words roll off her tongue in the most seductive voice she can muster under the circumstances, as she plays with the ties of her bathrobe.

"How's this?" She feels only slightly embarrassed as she pulls off the robe, leaving her in the sluttiest lingerie she could find. And, standing there under the bright lights of the stage, watching him completely_devour _her with his eyes, she smiles.

-------------

They're making out behind some curtain backstage, and she's giggling because he's tickling her sides with his hands. But then his hand pushes up her shirt ever so lightly and comes to rest on her stomach, and all of a sudden she _remembers _and ever so slightly pulls away.

He reads something in her face, and touches her cheek with his hand. "You okay?"

She nods, swallowing. "Yeah, but intermissions almost over and I gotta' go check on the next scene. But, uh," she gives him one last kiss, "I'm really glad your home."

-------------

She's getting nervous again – and she knows it's not her stage fright. As she stands under the faded blue light of the stage, rambling on to Lucas as Nathan about his "porn addiction," she wonders how she's actually going to get through this. Because it hasn't really set in that she's pregnant yet. _She's pregnant. _

She wants to know that it's going to be okay. That something in her life is going to stay the same. Something is going to be stable.

And then she looks to Lucas. And her fear immediately disintegrates.

"I'm gonna' marry you some day, Haley James. Someday." As he puts her hands slightly on her shoulders, and sets his blue eyes deeply on hers, she knows he's saying Brooke Davis inside.

-------------

Her heart is beating wildly inside her chest as she screeches into the parking lot of the hospital. And as she runs through the sliding doors of the emergency room, she's shut out everything except this. And now.

She's still in her dress from the party, and she must look pretty ridiculous amongst the bleeding and hurt, slumped into folding chairs, attempting to fill out forms. But she's crying, mascara running down her face, and she's screaming at the receptionist that it's an emergency, that she needs to see an OB-GYN now, and somehow the woman takes pity on her.

And now she's walking quickly through the walls of the hospital, escorted by a soft spoken doctor with dimples that kind-of reminds Brooke of herself. Right now Peyton's confession seems so trivial to her. Because, yes, in the heat of the moment she had been so _confused, _so_hurt, _but then the bleeding came, and Brooke couldn't think about Peyton anymore. Or Lucas. Or Peyton _and _Lucas.

The doctor's name is Dr. Reynolds, and she leaves Brooke in a stark white room that makes the brunette nauseous. When the doctor finally returns, with a bunch of a equipment that makes Brooke suddenly ache for Lucas to be here holding her hand, Brooke closes her eyes and prays to god that_everything is all right._

--------------

It's not all right. It's never all right. Dr. Reynolds has to tell an 18 year old girl, who has yet to even mention to her boyfriend that she is pregnant, and whom just found out that her best friend was still in love with her boyfriend and the father of her baby, that she has miscarried.

It's nearly midnight by the time they discharge her, and Brooke wants nothing more than her best friend right now. But she can't look at Peyton right now. A part of her wants to believe that she imagined the curly blonde's confession, just so she could have her best friend back.

But things aren't so easy.

She can't go to see Lucas. She can't look him in the soft eyes and tell him the truth: that she had his child growing inside of her for three weeks, but not anymore. That she hadn't been able to go to him and tell him everything. That she had to go through this alone.

So she drives for awhile. Remembering that she has to wake up tomorrow and put on a fake smile, and go to the wedding, and act like everything is okay. When clearly, nothing is okay. Her whole life is crumbling before her, and somehow she has no one to turn to.

She has driven to her old street without realizing it. She stops in front of the big white house with the little red door – and somehow she feels safer.

Crawling into the backseat and shutting her eyes tightly, Brooke tries to sleep.

No such luck.

* * *

It was short, but the next UD will be longer. I promise. 


	9. Storm in a Teacup

**Soon Enough**

_**A/N: **_I'm baaaaaccccccccck. So soon, right? And with my longest UD yet. Yay!!! Special thanks to Lynn, my love, who helped me out a lot with this chapter, and Chey, who gave me the abbreviation to Penthouse :)

**VERY IMPORTANT:**So, being the spastic child I am, I have been inconsistent. In chapter 6, I stated that Brooke got pregnant at Rachel's cabin, found out the night before the wedding, and lost the baby after she broke up with Lucas. FORGET ALL THAT. The timeline of the last chapter was correct, so go by that. (Brooke losing the baby the night before the wedding). My head was clearly somewhere else. And Brooke was about 8 weeks along when she miscarried. She still got pregnant at Rachel's cabin, which leaves about 8 weeks between then and the finale, but whatever. We know how messed up the OTH timeline is anyway.

So yes, peace. I'll stop rambling. Enjoy the update.

* * *

**Chapter 8**

Storm in a Teacup 

It's weird what telling the truth does to you. When a weight that's been on your chest for _5 years _gets lifted, and you can finally breathe again. For a minute, the world seems so clear, so focused.

And then the guilt comes.

The problem with Brooke is, she doesn't like to admit she's wrong. So after she tells Lucas, and he yells at her for about an hour for not telling him sooner, like, say, 5 years ago, she fights back. Because she thinks the truth would have hurt him more.

The problem with Lucas is, he doesn't like to admit she's right. So after he realizes that she's right, he was better off not knowing, he's kind-of at a loss for what to say to her, and just sits there in the dark, staring at her.

When he finally gets up and retreats to the brightly lit house, he doesn't care when he sees Peyton has been standing there the whole time, motionless. In a way, this all makes sense to her now.

The problem with Peyton is, she doesn't know why she hadn't figured it out sooner.

_"Why now, Peyton, why would you tell me you have feelings for Lucas _now_, when I have _so _much going on right now, stuff that you don't even know about."_

Now Brooke is back in New York, back in her luxurious office that looks over the Hudson River at West 57th Street. Back in her designer dresses and uncomfortable heels. Back at the boring events with the annoying paparazzi sticking cameras in her face.

Haley calls her on Monday morning, the day after Brooke returns home.

"He won't talk to me about it. All he does is sit around the house all day and mope. He missed a deadline last night."

Brooke sighs into the phone, pressing it farther into her cheek as she scribbles down a reminder to herself on a post-it. "I can't exactly do anything about it, Hales. I'm 1000 miles away."

"Well you can't just drop the bomb and abandon dealing with the repercussions." Brooke hears her friends exasperated sigh over the line.

The brunette softens. "I know, she says, pressing a hand to her temple and closing her eyes. "I just – I need a little time to clear my head. I'm not gone for good."

"Good." Haley pauses. "You should probably get in touch with Peyton at some point."

Brooke wedges the phone between her shoulder and ear, and flourishes her hand across her keyboard. She vaguely remembers a missed call on her cell phone from the curly blonde, and a couple of casual emails in her inbox, but she hadn't gotten around to replying. "Yeah, I think she's been trying to get a hold of me. Why, is it important?"

"Um, I'm not sure."

Brooke sighs. "Wow Haley, it's been four years and you're still not any better at lying. What aren't you telling me?"

A beat. And then: "That night – when Lucas overheard everything, Peyton, um, kind-of did too."

Brooke sits up a little straighter in her chair. "What? How is that possible?"

She can imagine Haley shrugging over the line. "I think she was standing in the doorway, and like, tried to follow Lucas and confront him as he left. But she was gone by the time you came back inside."

"Fuck," Brooke mutters. "Guess I left a pretty sticky mess behind."

"You think?" Haley laughs a little. "Anyway, are you still going through with buying Karen't Café?"

"Yep." Brooke shuffles through a pile of papers, pulling out a manila envelope. "Her lawyer faxed me the papers today."

"So does this mean we'll be seeing more of you?" asks Haley hopefully.

"I hope so. I've hardly been back a day and already my mom is driving me crazy."

"Good, cause Brooke, we really need you here."

Brooke swallows and nods.

---------------

He's sitting at a bench by the Rivercourt, moodily tossing rocks into the river, when she shows up.

"So why don't you think she ever told us?" Peyton sits gingerly down on the bench next to him.

He glances briefly over to her. "Well, she was pissed as hell at you," he says, laughing bitterly as he kicked the dirt.

"It all kind-of makes sense now, doesn't it? That whole situation."

"Not really," he says flatly. "I don't understand why she would fight so hard to push away the people she loved in her life when she was going through that much."

Peyton shrugs. "I think it was hard for her. She was really confused."

Lucas abandons the rock he's holding, brushing off his hands on his jeans. He doesn't really know what else to do, so he just sits there, staring at the ground.

"Look, Luke, I get that you need time" she continues, looking out across the river.

"I don't need time. Time isn't what I need. I need to understand why she would do this."

There is a short silence before Peyton speaks again. "I wasn't talking about Brooke. I was talking about us."

He looks up at her – surprised she's bringing up their relationship, so out of the blue. "You're really angry and upset right now," she says bluntly. "Which I get, yeah. So I'm gonna' give you some space. I'm gonna' go back to L.A." She pauses and then keeps going when he doesn't respond. "But, I'm always here for you, you know that, right? And when you're ready again, I will be too."

She stands, giving him one last glance, before walking away. He doesn't even watch her go, but as her car starts up and rolls out into the street, he has to wonder why she's bringing this all up now.

---------------

When Brooke walks into her bedroom later that night, she is less than surprised to find a familiar redhead sprawled across the sheets in a dramatic way.

"Hi," huffs Rachel, her voice muffled by the pillow.

"Well, well, well." Brooke kicks off her heels and flops down on the bed next to her friend. "Look who finally came back."

The redhead groans. "Maine sucks."

Brooke laughs. "What, got sick of Rick and his fancy estate?"

"Oh no, Rick was fine. We had a great time – until his wife showed up."

Brooke cringes. "Ouch. What a bastard."

"Yeah, he probably deserves the permanent head damage we both inflicted upon him." She sits up. "So what have you been up to?"

Brooke hesitates, teetering on the edge of telling Rachel where she had been exactly for the past week. But then she would have to rehash the story, the_ whole _story, and soon she would be crying again, and she didn't have any tissues.

So she keeps her mouth shut. "Nothing really – just work."

Rachel rolls her eyes. "All you do is work. You seriously need to get laid."

Brooke laughs, hitting Rachel with a pillow.

-------------

Lucas on Delta Airlines' website when Nathan barges in.

"Heard of knocking?"

"Heard of it? Yes. Enjoy participating in the act of it? No, not really."

Lucas rolls his eyes, turning his attention back to the computer screen.

Nathan grabs a banana from the fruit bowl and flops down into an armchair. "Haley sent me over here because, according to her, you are acting 'emotionally unavailable and unstable, and will most likely only open up to whomever he feels closest to," which is apparently me."

Lucas only half listens to Nathan. The majority of him is staring intently at his computer screen. Nathan stands and snaps his fingers in front of his brothers face. "Hello? Earth to Luke? What, are you looking at porn or something?"

"I'm trying to find airline tickets that don't cost like 5 zillion dollars," he says, ignoring Nathan's snide comment.

"Where are you going?" asks Nathan, walking around the counter to peer over Lucas' shoulder. "New York?" He pauses and puts a finger to his chin. "Now who do we know that lives in New York?" he asks, mocking wonder.

"Shut up," Lucas grumbles. "I just need to talk to her."

"Why don't you call her? It's cheaper."

Lucas sighs. "I've tried. Every time she answers, I hang up. I'm like a love struck stalker teenager. It's just – " he pauses. "I don't know what to say. I mean, how could she keep something like that from me? I figure that if I see her, somehow I'll know what to say."

Nathan shrugs. "If there's one thing you and Brooke have in common – it's your instincts. I mean, you both know what you want, and you go for it. The only time I've really seen Brooke shut herself off was with you. And it's happening again. Why do you think she went back to New York? It's just like when left for California junior year, or when you guys started that fucked up non-exclusive dating thing, or when she ended things between you two. She's too scared to let you in."

Lucas nods. Everything Nathan just said made total sense. In a way, Brooke knows who she is – she gets what she fights for. But he can see a part of her that is completely lost – and confused as to what she's looking for.

"So are you telling me not to go to New York?" Lucas asks, as he scrolls down the page of plane tickets.

Nathan shrugs. "I don't know. Haley's much better at giving advice than I am.

-------------

In the end, he decides to go. So that's how he ends up in the very last row of a Continental commercial plane, squished between an overweight business man playing Tetris on his computer, and a single mom with a crying baby.

When they finally touch down, after circling Newark airport for an hour, Lucas smells of baby vomit and B.O. Right now, he wants nothing more than to take a shower and collapse into the stiff sheets of a hotel room bed.

He takes a cab into the city, and they stop in front of a Hilton on West 36th. After his suitcases into the generic hotel room, he stands under the hot shower for 5 minutes, and then falls across the bedspread and shuts his eyes.

When he wakes up, and looks at the digital clock, which reads 6:57, he realizes he's slept for 4 hours. With a groan he untangles himself from the bed, and stands in the darkened hotel room. Moving to his suitcase, he pulls on a pair of jeans and a navy blue t-shirt.

When he gets in the cab, the driver speaks up in a rough voice.

"Where to?"

Lucas panics for a minute – wondering if he remembered Brooke's address. And then it comes spilling out without him realizing it. It's still emblazoned in his mind from the night he had her up against the brick façade of the building, _so close _to kissing her.

They get stuck in traffic around Times Square and the driver mutters something about a fashion event or something in Bryant Park. He turns on 3rd avenue and the traffic thins out – the loud honking and beeping of angry drivers replaced by the beat of the Pakistani music floating from the radio.

The neighborhood starts to look familiar, and Lucas stomach churns as they pull up in front of a building which looks all to familiar. He hands a wad of bills to the driver, and, hand shaking, pushes open the door of the cab.

He steps into the lobby and shuffles across the marble floor. The doorman looks up at him with little interest.

"Name?" he says in a boring voice.

"Uh, Lucas Scott. I'm here to see Brooke Davis."

The doorman looks mildly surprised, and suspicious at the same time. "I believe she's out for the evening. But I can call up and see if her roommate is home."

"Great, thanks." Lucas hesitates on telling the doorman, that it's fine, he'll wait in the lobby. But the doorman is already on the phone.

"Ms Gattina?" Lucas is surprised to hear Rachel's last name (he didn't know she and Brooke were still close), but breathes a sigh of relief that it wouldn't be some random stranger that he would have to make small talk with. "A Lucas Scott is here to see Ms. Davis." The doorman listens for a minute, before replacing the reciever. He looks up at Lucas. "Elevator 1. Penthouse."

But Lucas doesn't need to hear the floor number. He still remembers.

He steps into the elevator and presses PH. The doors slide closed, and the elevator begins its upward climb. When the doors open, he's met by a very familiar redhead, standing in the foyer with her arms crossed and an amused grin on her face.

"Well, well, well. If it isn't the famous Lucas Scott."

Lucas laughs and pulls Rachel into a hug. She graciously hugs back, and leads him into the living room.

"Make yourself at home." He sits down in a comfortable armchair and she steps past him, settling herself cross legged on the couch. She's wearing jeans and a concert t-shirt, and a half eaten cookie sits on top of Cosmopolitan magazine on the coffee table.

The conversation is pleasant – Rachel certainly hasn't lost her sharp wit. He tells him about the book he's working on, and he finds out that she's working as general manager for Clothes Over Bros.

"So, what brings you to our humble abode, Luke? I couldn't imagine it would have anything to do with a certain Brooke Davis, now would it?"

Lucas feels his face go slightly red, though he doesn't know why. "Yeah, uh, actually, we need to talk."

"Did you guys have sex?" Rachel asks, the corners of her lips twitching.

"What? No!" Lucas laughs. "It's just, we kind-of got in a fight when she came down to Tree Hill, and I wanted to talk to her."

Rachel looks confused. "She went to Tree Hill? She never told me? When?"

"Uhh, I think she got home like two days ago."

"Ah, so when I was in Maine. I guess the whole 'best friends tell each other everything' went by the wayside."

Lucas laughs. "So where is she, anyway?"

Rachel rolls her eyes. "Lydia made her go to a party for some new up and coming designer. I swear to god, sometimes it feels like Brooke's just a puppet and her moms the ventriloquist."

Lucas shakes his head. "It's Brooke's company," he said, remember how she had complained about her mother's overbearing personality.

"Tell that to Lydia," Rachel scoffs. At that moment, he phone buzzes on the table. She picks it up, glancing at the screen. "It's Rick."

"Boyfriend?" Lucas questions.

"One of them," she says with a smirk. "Booty call." She stands, slipping on her flip-flops that lie next to the couch. "Do you mind waiting here for Brooke?"

Lucas assures her that it's fine. As she's leaving, she says, "I think theres a Rangers game on. And, uh, the adult channels are –"

"I'm FINE," Lucas says, before she disappears into the elevator with a smirk.

Now he's alone in Brooke's apartment, and it's kind-of eerie in a way. He feels a little bit like he's trespassing. But, being the nosy Scott he is, he decides to look around.

He opens the fridge first. It's filled to the brim with an assortment of stuff. There's mixed greens, vegetables, pork chops, chicken, cheese, diet coke, beer, orange juice, cream cheese, ketchup. The freezer holds about 8 different pints of Ben and Jerry's ice cream, which he regards with a chuckle.

He pads down the hallway and opens the door, which he remembers is Brooke's bedroom. He sees her walk in closet, and notes that her bedspread has changed since the last time he was in her. He wonders if it's weird if he remembers this much, before shaking off the thought, which is replaced with a nagging feeling of guilt that he's being so nosy.

He goes into her bathroom and opens the cupboard. Band-Aids, make-up, face wash, lotion, tampons, hair ties, a toothbrush. Nothing too exciting.

The pictures that line her shelves feature Brooke and Rachel, one of Karen and Lily, a few random people Lucas doesn't know, one of Brooke and Peyton, a couple of Brooke and Haley, one of Brooke and Nathan. The last picture on the shelf has a silver frame around it, and this is the picture that Lucas really looks at.

It's Brooke and Lucas with their godchild on his first birthday. Brooke has James propped up on one knee, and the small boy is laughing at the top of his lungs. Brooke is making a face at Lucas who's standing next to her, laughing hysterically as well.

Lucas smiles as he remembers that day. It had been the last time he had seen Brooke before the night of their fake engagement. She had just moved to New York after living with Peyton in L.A for a year and was stopping in Tree Hill for James' birthday.

The afternoon had been enjoyable and Lucas had felt only slightly guilty for not missing Peyton.

And even though he was still with Peyton at the time, a part of him had been glad that it was Brooke who had come to Tree Hill.

He replaces the picture on the shelf and looks around the room once more. He moves to the bedside table, and opens the top drawer.

Inside is a cream colored envelope with _Lucas Scott _written on the front in Brooke's loopy scrawl.

Heart beating wildly, Lucas opens the letter. A thin photograph slips out. He recognizes almost instantly what it is, thought it only seems to be a bunch of scratchy black lines and blobs. He turns the photo around once more. Again, in Brooke's handwriting, _2/27/07. 8 weeks along. _

He realizes that she's held on to this ultrasound for 4 years, and his heart nearly breaks when he thinks of her going through all of that alone.

And then he reads the letter.

_Dear Lucas,_

_I know how angry and upset with me you must be. You're right – I should have told you at the time. You deserved to know. _

_That pregnancy came at the worst possible time for me – and for you. I was already trying to keep our relationship afloat, because I saw both of us sinking, and I was trying to fight so hard for us. _

_I know you think that I never fought for you, Luke. But I did. I fought for you everyday. I fought for you after what happened with Chris, I fought for you when Keith died, I fought for you even when it seemed like you weren't fighting for me._

_I found out I was pregnant about 3 days after you went to go visit colleges with your mom. When I went to the first doctor's appointment, it was the day you came home. I was back later that night, only then I was finding out that I had miscarried. _

_Then everything came falling down. I didn't know how to tell you – and I didn't know how to fight for you. But I didn't push you away. I let you go, hoping, wishing that you would have something more to say than, "I'm sorry."_

_But you didn't. It didn't feel like you were fighting for me anymore._

_It seems kind-of trivial telling you this now, four years later. But I think that you should know one more thing Lucas. I know you think that I stopped loving you. But I didn't. _

_Brooke_

-------------

Her night can't possibly get any worse. After a perfectly miserable evening with her whore of a mother, she returned home to her building, and was met by her doorman telling her that she had a visitor.

"Tall, sandy blonde hair. Electric blue eyes." The doorman sounds bored by his description.

Brooke's heart thumps against her chest. "Name?" she squeaks.

"I don't remember."

She doesn't even need to hear the name. She already knows.

The elevator doors open into her living room, and she's met almost instantly by Lucas Scott. She takes off her coat, in silence, and he watches her with an indecipherable expression on his face.

She turns from the coat rack to face him. They're about 10 feet apart and you could cut the tension in the room with a knife.

"Why didn't you call?"

He answers almost instantly. "I didn't want to do this over the phone."

She sighs, and walks past him into the living room. "Okay, yell at me, fine! Tell me I'm an idiot for not telling you. I'm ready for it!" She stands defiantly with her hands on her hips.

He walks over to her, and speaks in a soothing voice. "I found your letter."

"What let – " but she's silences herself as she sees him pull out the cream colored envelope from his back pocket. She immediately flushes, and he isn't sure if it's from embarrassment or anger.

"About what you said, Brooke,"

"Get out." The words come out icy cold – filled with hate.

"What?"

"I said, get out." She looks at him expectantly but he doesn't move. "You went through my personal belongings, read something you weren't ever supposed to read, and now I wan't you out."

He tries to reason with her. "Brooke – "

"GET THE FUCK OUT!" She shoves him – hard, and immediately he's taken back for a split second to their fight in the anteroom at Nathan and Haley's wedding 5 years previously.

So he turns, defeated. She follows him to the elevator and he steps in and turns around. But before he can say anything else, she disappears into her bedroom and the doors slam in front of him.

He's still holding the letter.

* * *

you know you love me... 

SO PLEASE REVIEW


	10. The Past is a Grotesque Animal

**Soon Enough**

_**A/N: **_I'm baaacccccck. I was absolutely blown away by everyone's reviews, and the review count, so I thank **Cas, Cami, Chey, Lynn, **and **Leah,**as usual. You guys are my lovely MSN and AIM lovers. I don't know what I would do without you. Also, thank you to my reviewers:**princetongirl, lanenapr252005, Ellipses, Brucas True Live, whiters, onetreehillgirl066, BRUCASEQUALSLOVE, tripnfallbri, ariadnescurse, iluvmedou, Brucas2006, iheartBL, azmar, jac4127, brucas333, awhero, OTHbrucas4ever, cutiek88, B.P.Davis, brucasisl0v3, brucaschopia4ever, daisygirl24, brookeheartslucas, brucas3, brucasbrathanbaleybrachel, dancefever0234, FiallyPJ, othfan326, apple01**. Some of you guys I know from Fanforum, the others are just faithful reviewers! Yay! I'm gonna stop now cause it sounds like I'm accepting an Oscar or something…lol. I hope you guys like this update. And yes, the title _is _actually a song. It's by Of Montreal.

Hope you enjoy….

* * *

**Chapter 9**

The Past is a Grotesque Animal

Brooke doesn't cry when he leaves, even though he probably expects her to. No, she holds herself together like she's learned to do, goes into the bathroom, and swallows a few more Tylenol than necessary.

She washes her face now, rubbing the soap feverishly across her skin, the mascara and eyeliner and blush and eye shadow and foundation all mixing in the basin of the sink. She lets her hair down from the fancy up-do she had gotten at the stylist. It crimps at the base of her neck, but Brooke doesn't really care.

She looks up in the mirror, and surprises herself when she sees a stranger looking back at her. It's Brooke, of course, but a more tired, defeated, angry and quiet version of herself than she had ever known. She wonders where that cheery party girl in high school went – the one that everyone loved.

She hasn't seen that girl in 4 and a half years.

She puts on a pair of sweatpants that she's had since high school and curls up in bed to watch Friends. She can't concentrate though, so she turns off the TV, and the light, and attempts to go to sleep.

Rachel comes home around two and comes into Brooke's bedroom for a second, leaning against the doorframe. It isn't until Rachel walks quickly over to the bed, curls up to the brunette and holds her soothingly in her arms, that Brooke realize that she's been crying this whole time.

-------------

"Wow."

Their sitting at the counter in the kitchen at Nathan and Haley's, and Lucas is eating cheerios moodily out of the box, as Nathan reads Brooke's letter.

Nathan looks up. "Wow."

"You said that already."

Lucas had been reluctant to share the letter with his brother. At first, Nathan had badgered Lucas for hours for details on what had happened in New York City. Then he had resorted to a different tactic: mockingly asking Lucas whether "brucas" had used birth control this time. Finally, Lucas caved.

"Dude…this is intense." Nathan looks back at the letter. "I mean, this basically sums up the mood swings, bitchiness, completely out-of-character personality Brooke had for the latter half of senior year. I mean, it was like she was PMSing 24/7. Sometimes I was literally afraid to be around her."

Lucas forces a laugh, because the reality of this situation isn't very funny at all.

"It all makes sense now. Look: '_I let you go, hoping, wishing that you would have something more to say than, "I'm sorry."'" _Nathan looks up. "Is that really all you said to her?"

Lucas grumpily picks at the peeling paint of the counter. "I was just really caught off guard. I had no idea she was gonna' break up with me."

"So what does this mean?" Nathan asks.

Lucas looks confused. "What do you mean?"

"Like, for you and Brooke? She basically just said she was still in love with you."

Lucas laughs. "Not really. I think she was talking about something more along the lines of her being in love with me through senior year. A lot changes in four years."

At that moment Jamie runs into the room, clutching the phone in his hands. "Aunt Brooke's on the phone! Brooke's on the phone!"

Nathan shoots a look at Lucas and takes the phone from Jamie. "Hey Brooke," he says into the phone.

-------------

She's home again, only this time, things feel different. The nervousness in the air is not about seeing everyone after such a long time; it's about seeing Lucas for the first time since their blowout.

She avoids him for a good week, throwing herself into work on the boutique. She spends 12 hours a day there, observing construction, making sure all the right walls are put up in all the right places, and that there are exactly 6 changing rooms, and that the register is up against the west wall.

She goes out to lunch with Haley a few days during the week and it takes that long to relay the whole incident with Lucas to her. Haley looks on, sympathetic, but doesn't really have any advice for Brooke other than to suck it up and talk to Luke.

Choosing to ignore that advice, Brooke takes Jamie out for ice cream on Thursday. After they finish the cones, they sit on the boardwalk, counting roller skaters, until finally Jamie speaks up.

"Why are you and Uncle Luke fighting?"

Brooke pauses and looks over at the earnest little boy. "Why do you think we're fighting?"

Jamie looks out over the river. "I heard daddy and Lucas talking about you, and they said you guys were mad at each other. Why?" he asks again.

She can't lie to someone that young and innocent, so with a sigh, she starts talking.

"See, Uncle Luke and I used to love each other very much. But then I went somewhere where we couldn't love each other." Brooke pauses, realizing that making her emotional state of mind an actual _place_, really made the whole break-up make more sense. "And so did he."

Jamie looks up at her in awe, as if she's telling the most interesting story in the world.

Brooke sighs. "Do you understand?"

Jamie nods solemnly. "But what kind of place could you go that made you fall out of love?"

She doesn't have an answer.

-------------

Nathan and Lucas are sitting in the living room playing NBA Live when Haley walks in and promptly turns off the console.

"Hey!" Nathan protests but Haley gives him a look of steel and he falls silent.

"Since you both are too lazy to do anything productive, and it's a beautiful Friday afternoon, I thought we would take a lovely jaunt downtown and visit Brooke at the boutique. All _three of us," _she says, shooting a look at Lucas.

"Their still doing construction though," Lucas groans. "Can't we wait until the opening?"

"And let you get off with another 3 weeks without having to see Brooke? I don't think so. You guys need to work things out."

Lucas turns to Nathan for support but Nathan just hakes his head. "As much as I love NBA live man, Hales is right. You guys have serious issues. Starting with the crappy birth control you were using in high school."

So Lucas gives in, and sulks behind Nathan and Haley all the way to the boutique. It's lunch hour, so when they get there, a slew of construction workers are sprawled out on the street, eating sandwiches and drinking beer. One is feeding a stray dog.

Haley pushes open the door and the new bell above the entrance jingles. Brooke is at the register, munching on a Caesar salad and reading Glamour standing up. She looks up, and her gaze travels from Haley, to Nathan, and then stops and falters on Lucas.

As they approach her, Lucas takes in her appearance. She's wearing skinny jeans and a tank top, with a _very familiar necklace _hanging around her neck. He notes how toned and thin her arms look, and how smooth her hair looks at it sits in low braids over her shoulders.

He snaps out of his reverie as Haley starts talking.

"The place looks great Brooke."

Her dimples show up. He had failed to see them during their last encounter, and he realizes how much he missed her smile. But the grin fades as she steals a glance at Lucas, and then looks down.

An awkward silence fills the air, before Nathan breaks the ice.

"So do you want to show us around?"

They're all thankful for this suggestion and she leads them around the store. But the tour ends as quickly as it started, and they're all back standing at the door.

"Well…this is awkward."

Brooke turns to Nathan. "It wasn't awkward until you made it awkward."

"Could've fooled me," Haley muttered.

"Okay! Okay." It's the first time Lucas has spoken and his words come out more dramatic than he expected. "Brooke." When he says her name, she turns to him, surprised. "Can we talk?"

Haley looks satisfied and Nathan looks relieved. Brooke looks reluctant but she nods, and motions to the back of the store.

She leads him into a storage closet and turns on the light as the door shuts behind them. They just stand there for a minute, 6 feet apart, Brooke staring at the floor and Lucas staring at her.

"Here." He pulls the letter from his back pocket. It's creased deeply by now from the numerous times he's opened and read it. He holds it out to her. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have read it."

She hesitates, staring at his outstretched arm, and for a split second he sees tears in her eyes. But then he blinks, and their gone.

Brooke reaches her hand out to take the letter, and for a second their fingers touch. But then she pulls her hand away and looks up at him.

"Keep it."

"Brooke…"

"No, really. It's not a big deal." She smiles softly, but Lucas can tell its not real. He decides to let it go, though, and he pockets the letter.

"I'm sorry too, you know. You know, for…"

"I know." Both their voices are at a whisper and she realizes now, that maybe they can finally be friends again.

But this is only the surface mending. The wounds go much deeper.

-------------

Lydia calls her after a week.

"You can't stay in a hotel anymore."

Brooke groans into the phone and collapses on the bed. "Mom, I'm not going to buy a house."

"Why not? You keep going back down there. Are you trying to tell me that you're not down there for good? Clearly there's something you like about that god forsaken town, so the least you could do is buy a house."

For the first time in a long time her mother actually makes sense. So as soon as she hangs up with her mother, she reluctantly calls her real estate agent.

The first house she sees sits on 10 acres of land, and is 2 stories, 6,000 square feet, and has a 3-car garage. She buys it, not because she needs a house that big, but because she knows she's never going to find a place she really calls home, and she thinks the biggest house will be the most satisfying.

A small part of her knows that's not true.

So she moves out of the hotel on Sunday, and it's slightly eerie to walk through a house so big with no furniture in it. She buys a bed and stocks the fridge, and by the next week has begun on decorating the living room.

When she was a little girl, she was in love with her house. Even before Lucas, she had always been the girl behind the red door, but it hadn't really meant anything until he said it. She has hazy memories of playing hide and seek with Peyton and hiding in closets or in the attic. She remembers the billiards room where her dad taught her how to play pool back when he actually had time for her. And she will never forget the kitchen, with its marble counters that Brooke used to love sprawling across when her mom wasn't home, and their cook, Charlotte, who made the best lasagna in the world.

This house has a kitchen with marble counters and it has a sunroom, which she could put a pool table in. It has an attic, and it has a hall closet perfect for hiding in. Somehow though, it's not the same. This house doesn't hold any memories. She can't point to the couch that she and Lucas fell asleep on while watching weird science, or sit on the porch chairs where they had sat when he tried to help her with Precalculus.

When Haley comes by for lunch one day, Brooke voices her concerns. How this house is so empty without memories. It's not like Lucas' house, or the apartment from senior, or even Nathan and Haley's house, places where Brooke had grown up.

"You'll make new memories," Haley says simply.

Brooke sighs. Clearly Haley doesn't get it.

-------------

He's sitting in the Blue Post drinking a beer and watching the game when Brooke walks in. At first he turns away from her, towards the TV because he knows that if he beckons her over, their conversation will surely turn awkward.

So much for being friends.

But then he feels a brush against his arm and she slides into the seat next to him. He glances quickly over at her, passing his eyes over hers (although in reality he's noting the shortness of her skirt, and how teasingly low cut her shirt lies. And then he begins to ponder whether he likes her hair more sexy and wavy like this, or more smooth and gorgeous it is when it's straight.)

"Hey." Her voice sounds tired, and she signals for the bartender. "Two apple martinis, please."

"Are you meeting someone?" he asks, his first words for the night.

She looks amused. "Haley, actually. She's parking the car."

"Oh." He had sort-of been looking forward to getting _away _from Haley, because she had been on his case all week, telling him that the_polite _thing to do would be to go see Brooke at her new house. Yeah, cause that wouldn't be awkward at all.

Haley enters the bar, her hair up in a high ponytail, wearing jeans and a halter top. She sits down next to Brooke and takes a sip of her apple martini. Mid-swallow, she notices Lucas.

"This is a girls night out," she says teasingly. "No boys allowed. Shoo, shoo. Go home and help Nathan handle Jamie."

Brooke laughs. "Don't be so mean, Hales."

Haley scoffs into her drink and then turns to Brooke. "How's work on the boutique coming?"

"Great actually…" The conversation trails off into things Lucas finds trivially boring. He moodily peels the label off his beer and tries to concentrate on the game, but he keeps finding himself distracted by the occasional bump of Brooke's smooth leg under the table.

On the opposite side of him, another woman slides into the seat next to him. He all of a sudden feels trapped being the only guy at the bar. But then she starts talking.

"The Lakers sure do suck since they lost Verden."

He turns to her and realizes that she's talking to him. He shifts his weight away from Brooke and Haley and towards the girl. She's short, probably only about 5'2" or so, with dirty blonde hair that's pulled back, and green eyes.

He laughs. "Tell me about it. The Knicks sure lucked out there."

The conversation naturally progresses, long past the game is over, and he learns that her name is Lindsey, and she's a book editor. She's a music lover like him, and a basketball lover like him, and a book lover like him. When he turns away for a brief moment, he notes that Brooke and Haley are gone and he hadn't even realized it.

Around 10:30 Lindsey tells him she has to go because she has a meeting in the morning. He hesitates on the verge of asking for her number. A month ago, he would have asked without question. She is attractive, smart, funny, and clearly understands him. But so much shit has happened lately, that for some reason something is holding him back from asking.

When Lindsey stands, and he's still deciding, she turns back to him. "Hey, do you wanna' come over for awhile?"

_He walks over to her, and speaks in a soothing voice. "I found your letter."_

_"What let – " but she's silences herself as she sees him pull out the cream colored envelope from his back pocket. She immediately flushes, and he isn't sure if it's from embarrassment or anger._

_"About what you said, Brooke,"_

_"Get out." The words come out icy cold – filled with hate._

_"What?" _

_"I said, get out." She looks at him expectantly but he doesn't move. "You went through my personal belongings, read something you weren't ever supposed to read, and now I wan't you out."_

_He tries to reason with her. "Brooke – "_

_"GET THE FUCK OUT!" She shoves him – hard, and immediately he's taken back for a split second to their fight in the anteroom at Nathan and Haley's wedding 5 years previously. _

_So he turns, defeated. She follows him to the elevator and he steps in and turns around. But before he can say anything else, she disappears into her bedroom and the doors slam in front of him. _

Lindsey looks sort-of disappointed when all Lucas does is wish her a good night.

* * *

You know you love me...

SO PLEASE REVIEW )


	11. When She Loves You

**Soon Enough**

_**A/N: **_High school sucks. That's all I'm going to say. Other than, I'm sorry it's been so long since an update. Feel free to hit.

Thank you, **Leah**, for beta-ing this. And my wonderful regular beta **Lynn** (who love until the end of time), who would have beta-ed this if it wasn't 3am in Sweden when I finished the chapter. And who also read over the first half.

For those of you who are just telling me to shut up so you can read….here you go. I hope you aren't disappointed

* * *

**Chapter 11**

When She Loves You

"Tomorrow night?" Haley asks into the phone, jotting the note down on a post-it.

"Yeah. You, Nathan and Lucas. It'll be kind-of a house warming dinner party." Haley can hear Brooke smiling on the other end. "I've been going stir crazy holed up in this huge house that I think my boutique construction workers are sick of me badgering them 100 times a day out of boredom. I just need something to do with my hands. So I'll cook."

Haley laughs. "Um, no offense Brooke, but you're an awful chef."

"Hales, I've lived without a cook for four years. Do you think I could keep up my figure if I was ordering in every night? Trust me, I can cook."

"I trust you, Brooke. Believe me. Nathan may need a little coaxing, but I'm sure he'll come around."

Brooke laughs. "So 7 o'clock? I'll see you then."

They say good-bye and Haley hangs up. She ventures into the living room, where Nathan is watching football. "Dinner tomorrow at Brooke's," she says, collapsing next to him on the couch.

He turns, skeptical. "She's cooking?"

"Apparently she has culinary skills now," responds Haley. "Will you tell Lucas when you see him at the gym later?"

"No problem," says Nathan. A car honks outside and he stands up. "That's him, actually. I'll be home around six."

He picks up his gym bag, kisses Haley, and exits the house. Lucas is waiting in his Jeep, blasting La Rocca through the stereo. Nathan climbs into the passenger's seat and tries to switch the station, but Lucas pushes his hand away.

"My car. My music."

Nathan laughs. "Dude, you and Peyton are like the same person."

"Yeah, I think that's the problem."

"What do you mean."

Lucas shakes his head as he pulls down the driveway. "I don't know. I mean, I think one of the reasons Peyton and I didn't work was because we were so similar – you know? It just got to be boring."

"Weren't you going to propose?"

Lucas laughs. "Yeah, well, I was. But then Peyton happened to find the letters that Brooke sent me summer after junior year, and well, you can guess the ending."

Nathan looks bewildered. "You kept the letters?"

"I don't know why," Lucas says with a sigh. "It just seemed like the smallest part I had left of her, I didn't want to let go of."

"Brooke, you mean."

Lucas nods, and the ride lapses into a short silence.

"In my humble opinion, you were much better off when you were with Brooke."

"And you're telling me this now?" Lucas asks with kind-of an uncomfortable laugh.

"Yeah, I mean, she made you less of a brooder and the fact that you two were so different really made your relationship so much more exciting. Plus, Luke," Nathan regards his brother, "have you seen Brooke? She is, by far the hottest girl you will ever get into bed."

"Come on, Nathan." Lucas groans slightly.

"No, seriously, are you disagreeing with me? Cause if you've forgotten what she looks like, I think I might have her on tape…"

"That is not even close to being funny!" Lucas yells, but follows his words with a short laugh. "Did I ever tell you about the time in college when she caught me watching her take off her clothes?"

"WHAT?"

_Lucas can't sleep. He'd just flown in to LAX about two hours ago, and even though it's 3:00 in the morning, North Carolina time, he's wide-awake._

_Peyton had rolled over and kissed him groggily on the cheek when he had climbed into bed next to her, and he had only slightly welcomed her presence next to him. They had been working at this long distance relationship for nearly a year now, and as freshman year of college draws to a close, he feels a slight weakening of the connection between them._

_The air conditioning in Brooke and Peyton's LA loft is broken, but the loud whirring of the fan isn't enough to drown out the giggles of laughter coming from the bedroom next to the one that he and Peyton lay in. He realizes now that Chase is either over, or on the phone with Brooke, and he regards this fact with a slight air of annoyance._

_He really shouldn't be angry. He flies out to LA at least twice a month and crashes with them, but when Chase is at the apartment, and Brooke is walking around in just a sheet (like a few weeks ago when he ran into her in the kitchen at 3am), he finds it harder to keep concentrated on his blue-eyed goldilocks. _

_Lucas is the one who should feel like an outsider. Brooke goes to UCLA and Peyton and Chase attend UCLA,, while Lucas is off at UNC, but for some reason, he still feels like Chase is the odd one out. Chase stepped into their lives after the worlds biggest love triangle died, and he'll never fully understand the magnitude to which Brooke, Lucas, and Peyton's lives are intertwined. _

_He hears another squeal of laughter from the adjacent room, and all of a sudden his mouth feels dry, so he retreats to the kitchen for a glass of water. Stepping out into the dark hallway, a thin strip of light emits from Brooke's door, which is only open a crack. _

_For a split second, he considers pushing open the door, and telling Brooke to keep it down, but the cranky urge dies out, and instead he pauses in front of the barely open door._

_He can't see Chase, but Brooke is standing in the center of the room. She's dressed in stiletto's, a black miniskirt, and a red halter top. His breath hitches in his throat as he's reminded of how incredibly _hot_ she looks in red. _

_He isn't quite prepared for what happens next, as she moves her hand to the zipper on the side of her skirt and slowly slips the material off. Lucas realizes now what she's doing, but doesn't move away. His mouth gets drier as the skirt falls to the floor and her black lace underwear comes into view._

_Her eyes are locked on the bed, and Lucas can see Chases' legs dangling off of it. She smiles in that flirty way of hers, seductively moving her hips to the soft beat that emits from the stereo. _

_When she reaches one hand behind her back to untie the halter, Lucas almost loses his balance from where he's leaning against the wall. He realizes what a creepy voyeur he's being, standing in the pitch-black hallway, watching his ex-girlfriend strip, but all guilty thoughts fly out of his mind as she pulls the shirt over her head. _

_The worst thing happens then. Brooke turns her head every slightly to the left and her eyes land on Lucas. He freezes, but even as he does, he goes hard as her gaze locks with his. _

_Brooke looks startled for a minute, and he feels like a deer caught in the headlights. But then she turns her head away, her long, straight, auburn hair swinging across her back. And, letting her eyes travel back to Lucas' for a split second, she unclasps her bra._

_Chase is completely oblivious to Lucas' presence on the other side of the door, but Brooke knows exactly what's going on, as she slides off her underwear, leaving her in only stiletto's. _

_She's just stripped for both her current boyfriend, and her ex. _

Nathan is still laughing ten minutes later when they park the car. Lucas just groans. "It's not that funny!"

"So what happened next?"

They get out of the car and enter the cool lobby of the gym. "Then we had a threesome, Nate." Lucas laughs. "No, she took off her shoes and walked up to the door and closed it in my face with a smirk."

"So you went into the bathroom and jacked off to mental images of your ex-girlfriend naked."

"Pretty much," he says, and they both laugh.

Entering the locker room, Nathan just shakes his head. "So she actually _saw you, _and didn't stop. Well, did you guys ever talk about it?"

"God, no." Lucas laughs. "Although at breakfast the next morning she made some sly comment, thanking me for not using any of the hot water to take a shower."

Nathan bursts into another fit of laughter, and Lucas just rolls his eyes.

IIIIIIIIIIIII

Brooke can hear the grains of rice crunching under her feet as she stumbles across the kitchen carrying the heavy pot of chicken. She checks the clock. It's 6:54, and she's just barely getting the Paella in the oven.

"Fuck," she mutters, as the doorbell rings. She's still in her sweatpants and apron, and there's flour all over her face. Wiping her hands on a towel, she emerges in the hallway and pulls open the front door.

Lucas takes in her appearance with a laugh. "Hey Cinderella," he says, and she instantly experiences a flash of déjà vu. He hands her a bottle of red wine, and, rolling her eyes, she pulls open the door to let him in to the house.

"You've yet to burn the house down – that's a plus."

She smiles slightly. "Here, you can wait in the living room. I just have to finish dinner and go change."

"Anything I can help you with?"

Brooke pauses. "Actually there is." She pulls open one of the drawers of an armoire that's in the hallway, taking out a set of placemats and napkins. "Set the table," she says, depositing them in his arms.

She enters her bedroom to the ringing of her cell phone. "Hello?" she says into the receiver, picking it up from her nightstand.

"Hey Brooke, it's Peyton." Brooke is surprised to hear the blonde's voice for the first time in over a month.

Instead of her usual playful, "P. Sawyer!" Brooke just sighs and sits down on her bed. "Hi Peyton."

Peyton had gone back to LA just a few days after Brooke's revelation. Brooke hadn't talked to her since, and she knows that the phone goes both ways, but Peyton hadn't even mentioned the whole ordeal to Brooke before she left. So Brooke simply chose not to share any more information.

"How's life?"

"Peyton we haven't spoken in a month. What did you call me for?" Brooke knows the words sound harsh, but in a way she feels betrayed by her best friend, who Brooke knows for a fact has been talking to Nathan, Haley and Lucas.

There's a short pause on the line. "I just wanted to talk."

"I'm having people over for dinner. Can I call you back later?"

"Sure. Who are you having over?"

"Lucas, Nate and Haley."

"Oh." The tone in Peyton's voice changes and Brooke wonders for a second whether Peyton feels left out, 3000 miles away.

The brunette softens her voice. "I'll talk to you later Peyton. Bye." She hangs up before she can hear the farewell from her friend.

Brooke's halfway down the stairs when Nathan's booming voice echoes through the hallway. "Davis! Get down here, I think Lucas is poisoning your dinner."

She takes the steps two at a time and enters the kitchen. Haley and Nathan are seated on stools at the counter and Lucas is standing in front of the Paella, depositing spices into the dish.

"What are you doing?" she walks around the counter and playfully shoves him away, dipping a finger into the dish to taste it.

"Firstly, I saved it from a very charred death. Secondly, I was just adding a little flavor."

Brooke rolls her eyes. "I'm not dumb. I think I know how to do that myself. It's cooking 101."

"Sorry, I wasn't under the impression that you were matched in skill level with the contestants on _Top Chef._"

As they move into the dining room and begin dinner, the conversation shifts around, from Jamie, to Karen and Lily, to Lucas' new book. At one point, Haley turns to Lucas.

"What ever happened to that girl from the bar?"

"What girl?" asks Lucas.

"The one you met when we ran into you at the Blue Post," Brooke chimes in.

"Oh." Lindsey had slipped from Lucas' mind from the moment he turned down the invitation to go back to her place. "Nothing."

"You never told me about a girl," says Nathan, looking slightly emotionally wounded.

"That's cause it wasn't a big deal." Lucas sighs. "We just went our separate ways."

"You didn't get her number?" Brooke asks with a slight air of teasing in her voice

"No," says Lucas, growing oddly irritated with Brooke's last comment. "Why should I have?"

Haley shrugs. "It just seems like you guys were hitting it off when Brooke and I left."

" Aw," says Nathan. "He's probably just still pining over Peyton, wounded about her departure from Tree Hill." He's teasing, fully aware that his brother has been over Peyton for awhile now, but Haley doesn't hear the mockery in her husband's voice.

"You're still into Peyton?

Lucas is about to open his mouth to respond, but it's Brooke who speaks up next.

"Who wants dessert?"

IIIIIIIIIIIII

In the kitchen, Brooke transfers the pie onto a plate. Her friends' voices drift in from the dining room and she breathes a sigh of relief when she realizes they've changed the subject of conversation.

She doesn't know why she put an end to the conversation before Lucas could answer Haley's question. Why should it bother Brooke if he was still longing for Peyton? She had bigger things to think about then the on-again-off-again roller coaster of a relationship of the two blondes.

Brooke spent the first year of college listening to Peyton complain about Lucas and their relationship, and Brooke realized when she moved to New York that it was nice not to have to play Psychiatrist anymore.

IIIIIIIIIIIII

"I have to say, top notch cuisine, Cheery," says Lucas, letting his fork fall to the empty plate with a clatter. "I'm sorry I doubted you."

"Give her a break," says Haley with a laugh. "Brooke has never been a terrible cook."

Nathan laughed. "You certainly proved me wrong," he says, addressing Brooke. "Although, Hales is right," he continued. "I've never had to throw up after eating your cooking. Remember up at Rachel's cabin that time? You cooked us a decent meal. A meal that you left us to clean up the mess of while you two," he points to her and Lucas, "disappeared to go have sex."

An uncomfortable silence settles over the table, although Nathan looks oblivious to what he said wrong.

Brooke doesn't turn to look at Lucas, but she can feel his gaze on her out of the corner of her eye.

Haley clears her throat. "Well, I think we're gonna take off," she says, standing from the table. "We told the babysitter we would be home by 11 and it's – " she checks her watch, " – 9:30," she finishes slowly, before looking up. "Well, you never know how bad traffic will be."

The married couple is gone amidst Nathan's confused protests before Brooke can blink an eye, and suddenly it's just her and Lucas alone in the dining room.

Finally it's him who breaks the silence. "Look, Brooke, about that weekend…"

"It was my fault."

He looks up. "What do you mean?"

She sighs, suddenly exhausted. "I forgot to take my birth control pill one day."

"Oh." He pauses. "I actually meant, what did you mean by 'fault.""

She's confused by his question. "It was my fault that I got pregnant."

Lucas shakes his head. He stares at the table for a minute, before looking up and smiling at her softly. "This may sound crazy but I would have thought of your pregnancy as a blessing rather than a curse."

Their eyes lock together, and Brooke doesn't say anything – she lets him continue.

"If you hadn't miscarried, and if we hadn't broken up, I don't think we would have been as lost as we were." A pause, and then, "I mean, yeah, it would have been hard having a baby at 17. But I honestly think we would have stayed together, and been as happy as Nathan and Haley and Jamie are now."

She's suddenly shy, tearing her gaze away from his sharp blue eyes. _What had he just said? Was he implying that he wishes they were still together? _When Brooke looks back at him, she notices the small signs of that boyish blush of embarrassment that he used to get. Then he shrugs. "Who knows."

IIIIIIIIIIIII

She tells him that he doesn't have to help her clean up, but Lucas ignores her. "Since Nathan and Haley abandoned you, I figure the least I can do is help you with the dishes."

Oddly, there is no dishwasher in the house, so Brooke fills the sink and dips her hands into the soapy water, giving Lucas the task of drying dishes and putting them back in the cupboard.

"So how's your life been?" He asks her after a few minutes of only the sound of splashing water and clattering plates.

In that moment, Brooke feels like she could tell him everything. How she's been living the past four years in a sort-of robotic shell, holding on to the hope that someday she would figure out how she was supposed to live her life. How the only real friend she has in New York is Rachel. How every time a guy hits on her, it doesn't make her feel good like it used to. How she has no idea why she is so hesitant to be in a relationship.

She aims for as close to the truth as her conscience will let her speak. "Fine, I guess. Just lonely."

"What do you mean?"

"I don't know. I guess just being in this big and empty house makes me more aware of how alone I am." She wonder if that comes out melodramatic and needy, but, stealing a glance at Lucas, he just nods. Then he opens his mouth to say something, but then seems to decide against speaking.

"What?" she asks, her curiosity getting the best of her.

"It's just, any guy would be crazy not to fall for you, Brooke."

Her stomach flips over, something she hasn't felt it do in close to five years.

"Your brilliant, strong, gorgeous, and independent. I'm sure the guy for you is out there, somewhere."

The compliments wash over her and she gets an odd feeling of giddiness, and that same sense of déjà vu that she's gotten earlier. But it fades away quickly, and is replaced by an overwhelming emptiness.

"Maybe. But I'm afraid to open my heart up like that again."

He smiles somewhat sadly. She wonders if he remembers too. "Isn't the alternative scarier?"

Yes, she decides, he most definitely does.

IIIIIIIIIIIII

By the time he leaves, it's nearly midnight. She walks him to the door from where they had been talking in the living room, and watches as he shrugs his coat on over his shoulders. He opens the door, but before stepping out, pauses and looks back at her.

"Hey…do you want to maybe get dinner sometime?" Lucas tone is cautionary; he doesn't want to scare her. For a second, after he asks her, Brooke stands there looking like the vulnerable teenage girl he once knew and hurt, but then she smiles somewhat shyly.

"I'd like that."

* * *

Your reviews own my heart. Actually, BL, Lynn, Chey, and Leah own my heart. But your reviews come in a dead 5th. 


	12. First Breath After a Coma

**Soon Enough**

_**A/N: **_Finals are over, and a new term has begun. I wrote this chapter in it's entirety on the flight to LA this morning at about 6am, but I think it turned out surprisingly well. I hope you all have a lovely presidents weekend/week. Au Revoir for now.

Thank you Leah for the chapter title.

-

**Chapter 12**

First Breath After a Coma

You can't ignore history. It's one thing that Brooke learned from her four years of high school. That you can try to ignore the heartache inside, locking it up until even you believe that it's gone. But it still leaves you scarred.

She stands naked in front of the mirror, dragging a comb through her hair. It's starting to grow out now, extending past her shoulders and she's surprised to realize that she missed its length. She's also been spending time at the beach, and has been out in the sun a lot more than when she was in New York, so her body is the most freckled and tan it's been since senior year.

The small scar that runs along her hipbone seems to stand out more prominently than she remembered. She finds it odd that some scars grow with age, while the other ones fade away.

Scars. She has plenty of those.

She doesn't want to be dramatic when she considers her emotional scars, and how they probably hurt more than any bump or bruise she's ever gotten, but it's true.

Those scars hardly ever fade.

-

"I can't handle this," she groans with anxiety, as she barges into the kitchen at Nathan and Haley's, collapsing into a seat at the counter.

"Handle what?" asks Haley as she spreads peanut butter over bread for Jamie.

"It's like, why the hell should I be nervous? Brooke Davis doesn't get nervous."

"Nervous about what?"

"And I haven't been insecure for fucking four years. Why the hell does he do this to do me?"

"Who?"

"God, Haley, what do I do?" Brooke groans, dropping her head to the counter.

Haley sighs, and reaches for a knife to cut the sandwich. "Brooke, I love you, I really do. But in order to help you, I need you to tell me what the – " she eyes Jamie who's coloring at the kitchen table " – H-e- double L you're talking about."

"I think I'm going on a date with Lucas," Brooke groans into the counter.

"Hold on, step back," says Haley, clearly surprised. "When did this happen?"

"Well, after you guys totally ditched us at dinner last week because Nathan decided to make a totally awkward comment, we hung out for awhile."

"Define, hung-out."

"You know, we talked. It was nice."

_"Come on, you _knew _I was afraid of heights," said Lucas, clapping a hand over his forehead._

_"I'm sorry that I didn't realize that the roof of your house qualified as 'heights,'" says Brooke with a teasing tone. "Plus, you were supposed to be a macho 17-year old boy."_

_"Shut up. Where did you even come up with the idea to climb up there?"_

_"I used to do it all the time at my house when I was younger. Usually when my parents would fight at night, I would climb out my window onto the main roof and try to find constellations, or call Peyton, or write in my journal."_

_"Hold on," he says, holding up a hand. "You had a _journal?_"_

_"So did you!" she counters._

_"Yeah, but I didn't call it that. I'm just surprised you kept a _diary."

_Brooke laughs. "All girls do. The smart ones at least"_

_"What did you write about?"_

_"Well, when I was younger it was mainly crush lists and trivial stuff like that. But when I got older I started kind-of letting out my anger in writing."_

_"Am I in these journals?" Lucas asks, raising an eyebrow._

_"No comment," she replies with a smile. _

"So now you're going on a date?"

"I don't know!" Brooke exclaims. "That's what I'm trying to figure out. I mean, it's dinner, but I don't know if it qualifies as a date."

"Well did he call you up and ask you? What did he say?"

_"Why the _fuck _would I want the designs shipped a week after opening?" Brooke asks into the phone._

_The person on the other line mumbles an excuse, but Brooke has already hung up. It's Friday afternoon and she's stressed enough as it is. Adding to this new hassle, it's about 95 degrees out and the humidity in the air has made the week unbearably sluggish. She's been wearing these jeans for three days because she has yet to buy a washer-dryer and is too lazy to go to the Laundromat. She's PMSing and her cramps are awful but she can't find any ibuprofen in her purse. Oh, and her mother's a bitch. But that's not unusual._

_Her phone rings, and Brooke answers it with a pissed-off "what?"_

_There's a pause on the other line, and then she hears Lucas' voice. "Wow, I feel so loved."_

_She rolls her eyes. "Trust me, I'm not in the mood to engage in stupid banter with you."_

_"I reiterate my last comment," he says, and she has to smile._

_"Sorry, I'm just in a bad mood. "What's up?"_

_"Well, see, I was planning on being hungry soon, and I was wondering if you had eating plans scheduled."_

_Brooke laughs. "Sadly, my schedule doesn't allow me to be hungry or engage in the act of eating until tomorrow."_

_Lucas sighs, feigning disappointment. "Well, I guess I can reschedule my hunger for tomorrow night, at like 7:30, at _Chez Napoleón._"_

_"Sounds like a plan. Maybe you'll see me there."_

_"I hope so, or all that money I spent on hair plugs would go to waste." _

_"Sometimes you make no sense," Brooke says through a laugh._

_"Oh, I know."_

"Um, talk about FLIRTING CENTRAL," says Haley, clearly excited.

"Really?" asks Brooke, although her tone is halfway between anxiety and relief.

"Really, really." Haley smiles and walks over to the table, handing Jamie his lunch. The boy immediately drops his crayon and grabs the sandwich. "So what are you gonna' wear?"

-

"What am I gonna' wear?" Lucas asks desperately, browsing through her closet with a frantic air.

"Dude, you are such a woman," Nathan says in a serious tone from where he's sprawled in the armchair in the corner of the room.

Lucas glares at his brother. "I would like to look presentable."

"Why, it's not like it's a – " Nathan's eyes widen. "- OH MY GOD, THIS IS SUCH A DATE!"

Lucas flushes. "It is not, we're just going to dinner."

"Where?"

"Chez Napoleón."

"After 6pm?"

"7:30."

"Are the entrees over 25 bucks?"

"I think."

"Are you going to insist on paying?"

"Of course."

"Dude, it's a date," Nathan says mater-of-factly.

"How would you even know? You've probably never been on a date. You just hooked up with girls, and then when you started seeing Haley you guys just hung out in the tutor center and her room and the Riverwalk."

"I've read my fair share of Cosmo, and it says that a dinner qualifies as a date when – "

"DUDE! COSMO?"

"What?" Nathan asks, clearly confused as to what the problem is with him reading a woman's magazine.

"Nevermind," says Lucas laughing. "And I admit – it's a date. So what the hell do I wear?" he asks for the second time.

Nathan points to a pair of jeans hanging over the back of Lucas' desk chair, and a navy blue button down shirt. "Wear those, and that, and you are totally getting laid."

"Oh god…"

-

Lucas gets to the restaurant 15 minutes early and then walks around until 7:35 before going inside so he doesn't seem like a loser. He still gets there before Brooke, however, and is pleased to find that they're seated outside, because the humidity of the week has finally broken, and a warm breeze has settled in the air.

Brooke shows up 15 minutes late and apologize profusely, but he misses her telling him about her bitch of a mother that kept her on the phone until 7:15. He doesn't mean to tone her out, but his body is making most of the decisions as he stares blatantly at the tan skin that peaks out from her knee length, black dress. It takes almost all of his willpower to not look directly at her cleavage, which is prominent above the yellow fringe of the neckline.

_Why does she do this to him?_

He regains control of his hormones after a few minutes, and the conversation drifts from pleasantly trivial things, to a heated political debate, to a trading of stories from high school.

Dinner has been cleared away when Brooke speaks up again, talking in that _amazingly sexy _raspy voice of hers.

"I don't think I ever told you how much I loved your book."

She hadn't, actually, but he wonders if it was more for the obvious reasons: the fact that the majority of the book revolved around the hideous high school love triangle. Well, that and basketball.

"You know, when I sent the first draft to my editors, they wanted me to cut out a lot of stuff I had about you and me."

Brooke doesn't exactly look surprised. She just shrugs. "It kind-of makes sense. I mean, you were with Peyton at the time."

"Yeah, I guess they wanted to market the novel as more of a perfect love story."

"I guess you overrode them?" Brooke asks with a laugh.

"Not at first," Lucas responds, smiling as well. "But I wore them down eventually. I told them it was more about decisions, and just a teenager losing his way, multiple times."

Brooke nods and then looks down at her plate. "You know, reading those chapters made me kind-of sad. Just cause, it reminded me of how…happy we were, and how it just kind-of fell apart."

Lucas nods. When he had let Peyton read the book, he had left out the chapters with Brooke. It didn't really matter though, considering the blonde read the book in its entirety once it was published and after they broke up.

_Sometimes I marvel at how perfect she is when I'm tracing patterns across her bare skin or running my fingers through her chocolate locks. I've memorized every inch of her, from the freckle on her ankle to the scar on her hipbone. If she left me now, I would remember her body forever. _

_Even after we break up, I still remember the way her skin feels like porcelain in my hands, and the way her sighs sound when I'm hovering over her. I can still smell her apple shampoo on my pillow, and when I wake up alone, the lack of her presence in my room is more obvious then ever. _

_She tortures me on game nights, the skin that isn't covered by her cheer uniforms leaves me haunted into the middle of the night with memories of when I was allowed to touch her, hold her, kiss her. I think she knows it, too, because sometimes she catches me looking at her from across the gym, and smirks. _

_It's okay though. Because I deserve it. I know that I do. And past all the anger I have for her leaving me, and misunderstanding of her reason, I'm left with an irreplaceable sadness that just hopes for her not to hate me. _

_She told me that she loves me, and that she probably always will. But I wish I could change that, because maybe it would take away the pain in her eyes. _

His editor had told him that the dedication had made him seem like a pimp, but he had stood his ground and told her that anyone who knew him would understand,

_To a goldilocks and a pretty girl. You taught me how to love, and also how to lose. _

Of course Lucas insists on paying for dinner, despite her protests. According to him, just because she is richer than him, doesn't mean she's allowed to strip him of his "manhood."

They take a detour and he walks her home along the boardwalk. 'It's like freaking lovers lane out here,' Brooke thinks to herself and it's painfully obvious that they are the only two people on the boardwalk not holding hands. Despite the general awkwardness of the situation, the walk is pleasant, and Lucas points out the place where the burning boat festival is.

"I'll always remember what you said to me that night," he says with a smile of reminiscence.

"What?" asks Brooke.

"You said, 'you do your thing and try to resist. It's actually kind-of cute.'"

"Oh my god, I was such a flirt," says Brooke clasping her hand over her eyes.

"You wanted me so badly."

Brooke punches him in the shoulder lightly. "Hey! You shouldn't talk, Mr. Horndog."

He feigns shock. "Excuse me, I was a complete gentleman."

"Until you shoved your tongue down my throat at the Blue Post."

"Okay!" he says, holding up his hands. "One, you definitely initiated that kiss. Two, you had just showed me possibly the sexiest tattoo ever, which you still have by the way. Three, I didn't exactly see you objecting."

They've reached her porch, and are standing in front of her door. She doesn't want to invite him in because she doesn't want him to think she's suggesting something, so instead she just shifts nervously from one heel to the other.

"This was really nice," she says genuinely, and he smiles and nods. "So, um, goodnight."

Her palms are sweating profusely cause all of a sudden he's leaning in and has that _look _that he gets in his eyes. His sharp, electric blue eyes.

Their lips are inches away, and she can feel his breath against her face. But then, she tenses up, panics, and turns her head away.

He ends up kissing her hair, and there is this horrible moment of awkwardness where they both just stand there. Her heart is pumping wildly, and for some reason she feels on the verge of tears. And then, it's just a mumble of "bye," and she's slipped into the house and slammed the door.


	13. This One's Gonna Bruise

**Soon Enough**

_**A/N**_**: **You probably all don't, but I find it kind-of funny that I haven't updated since February. I'm SORRY! But at least I'm not giving up on this story – eh? And this update is pretty intense, not gonna lie, so I guess the wait was worth it? No, not really? Ah well, you'll live.

Enjoy!

- Emma

**Chapter 13**

This One's Gonna Bruise

She doesn't want to be here. Not an ounce of her wants to spend the entire evening talking to a bunch of boring, rich socialites, and B Grade designers. The majority of her wants to scamper upstairs, take a long hot bath, and go to sleep.

A small portion of her wants to get drunk.

But no. Instead she's stuck downstairs, having to make polite small talk with people she doesn't care a shit about.

Brooke blames her mother, really. Though hesitant to the idea of opening a Tree Hill location at first, Lydia had used Brooke's idea as an excuse to throw a party "for" Brooke. She had flown down this morning, surprised her daughter, and told her that there would be a party that very evening to "celebrate" the new opening. She had gotten a little bitchy when Brooke informed her that no, the store was not finished yet (it wasn't even painted it). However, Lydia Davis is never unfazed for long. At 3pm she informed the younger brunette that the party would be held instead, at Brooke's house.

Brooke supposes she should be flattered by her mothers gesture. She was, a little at first. That is, until she realized that she didn't know a single name on the guest list, and she had to practically beg her mother to let her invite Haley, Nathan, Lucas, Mouth, and Skillz.

Haley and Nathan arrived awhile ago, but as Brooke drifts through the living room, she sees them deep in some clearly hysterical conversation with Skillz. She smiles, amused, as she finds Mouth flirting with some six foot blonde model.

Around 8 o'clock Lucas arrives. She catches his eye briefly in the crowded hallway as he hangs up his jacket, waves, flaunts a shy smile, and retreats to the kitchen.

God, she is such a teenager.

--

"I know you." Lucas is pushing his way through the crowded living room when Lydia Davis grabs his arm. He stops, primarily to be polite, although numerous incidents in the past have taught him not to engage himself conversations with Brooke's mother more than necessary.

"Hi Mrs. Davis," he responds as warmly as possible, extending his hand to the middle aged woman.

She looks down at the gesture, and ignores it. "You're Lucas Scott, one of my daughters ill-fated love interests."

Lucas nods and clears his throat. He doesn't know how comfortable he feels that Lydia remembers him from senior year, especially since the one dinner he had with Brooke and her parents when they were home in Tree Hill visiting had been spent primarily in silence.

"You must be so proud of Brooke – I can't believe all she's accomplished."

"With my help," responds Lydia in a cutting tone. There's a short, awkward silence, before she continues. "You know, you were the only serious relationship she's ever been in. You must have given her heart a good beating. Oh, and then after that night you showed up out of the blue in New York? I can't tell you how many days she sulked for after –"

"Lydia." The younger Davis's cool, emotionless tone floats into the picture, and Lucas turns to see Brooke approaching, glass of red wine in her right hand. She's wearing an olive green halter dress that sways when she walks, and her hair hangs down to her shoulders in soft curls.

He turns back to Lydia and feels Brooke's presence next to him.

"Oh, darling, I was just talking to your lovely ex-boyfriend here." Lydia places a hand on her Lucas' shoulder, and then leans in to whisper in a voice that was still completely audible to Brooke. "In my opinion, you're better off without her."

With that, she brushes away from the two of them. And when Lucas looks back to face Brooke, she's already pushing her way through the crowd. Before he can follow her, Haley places his presence in front of him.

"Hey Hales," Lucas says, absentmindedly, searching for Brooke, who seems to have disappeared.

"I saw you talking to Lydia. That must have been lovely," says Haley with a caustic laugh.

Lucas nods, taking the beer she's offered to him. "I've forgotten what a bitch she can be."

"Did she say something to Brooke? Cause she just walked past me and she looked kind-of upset."

"Yeah." He sighs, rubbing his temple between two of his fingers. "I want to go see if she's okay, but I never really know whether or not to get involved."

Haley smiles. "I think that trait has always been both a blessing and a curse. You always get involved, Lucas. That's who you are."

"What, so you're saying I have some sort-of hero complex?" he spits out, defensively, and Haley sighs.

"I didn't mean that. I'm just saying, you're always saving people, and you're good at it. But you're also right – sometimes you get involved when you shouldn't."

He wants to ask her when, _when has he gotten involved when he shouldn't have, _but by now Haley has flitted off to speak to an old friend.

--

"Can I have a Sex on the Beach, on the rocks, please?" she's got a terrible headache and the excruciatingly boring classical music isn't helping. The bartender gives her a sleazy smile, perhaps imagining her drink order to be some innuendo or pick-up line, but Brooke ignores him and checks her phone.

Just as the bartender slides the drink across the bar, she feels an arm around her waist. Imaging Lucas, she turns around with a smile she can't hide. But instead of being met by gorgeous blue eyes, instead a pair of hazel ones meet her own.

"Miles," she chokes out, surprised, as the shaggy-haired brunette mutters an order to the bartender, who looks thoroughly disappointed that Brooke now has company. "What are you doing here?" she hisses, pushing his hand away.

"Your mother invited me," he smirks, grazing his hand along her hip. "Lovely woman. What, aren't you glad to see me?" The words sound slimy, rolling off her tongue, and Brooke's head is spinning more than ever now.

"Maybe you didn't get the message," she says, pushing him farther away. "But I think the last time we spoke I told you I didn't want you within 3 feet of me ever again."

"C'mon, babe," he replies, unfazed. "You were just in one of your 'moods.' Whatever, I'm past it."

"Well I'm not. And do not call me babe." Her voice has risen now, and Brooke realizes that the room has grown more quiet, as near partygoers begin to listen in on their conversation.

"Don't make a scene, Brooke," he mutters, resting a hand on the small of her back and pulling her close to him. "Just play nice and give me a kiss."

She begins to feel tears of frustration build-up in her eyes, and her knees are starting to shake. She's eternally grateful when she feels another presence at her side, and a cool and collected voice speaking up.

"Can we help you?" Lucas sounds cutting, and Brooke sighs out in relief when Miles releases his grip on her.

"Who the hell are you?" the brunette asks in a pissed tone.

"Funny, I was going to ask you the same question." Lucas sounds on the verge of losing it, and as Brooke steals a glance at the blonde, she sees fire and anger etched in his eyes.

"Oh so you'll fuck him but not me?" asks Miles through a bitter laugh. "Or maybe you decided to stop being such a prude," he spits out.

"Okay, I think it's time for you to go," says Lucas firmly, placing a hand on Miles' shoulder.

"What's going on here?" asks Lydia, who's pushed her way through the now silent crowd. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" is her second question, as she turns to Lucas.

Brooke speaks up finally. "Mom, stay out of this."

"Get your hands off me." Miles pushes Lucas – hard.

Lucas puts his hands in the air. "I'm not going to cause a scene man. Let's go, Brooke," he says in a gentler tone, extending his hand to the younger Davis.

"Whatever. She's not worth it," says Miles, raising his voice. "Hey man – take my advice. She's a tease but a prude. A needy little whore – "

But Miles doesn't finish his sentence, because in the blink of an eye, Lucas's fist connects with his jaw. Mike lets out a yell that corresponds with Lydia's shriek, but soon returns the sentiment by punching Lucas squarely in the eye.

Brooke is frozen in place – that is until Nathan pulls her away from the two men, and grabs Lucas from behind. Skillz has restrained Miles, and the entire room is in an uproar over the scene that has just taken place.

"I want _you _out of this house!" says Lydia in a shrill voice, pointing to Lucas with a livid glare.

"Him!?" Brooke yells out, pushing her way back to the bar. "He didn't do anything. Get Miles out of here!"

"Don't be stupid, Brooke. We know who started this. Clearly this boy has some sort-of anger management issues. I guess it has to do with growing up in this god-forsaken town with a clearly incompetent mother."

By the time Brooke can turn around to see Lucas' reaction, he's already gone, and she sees him disappearing out of the room. With a rough stare, she turns back to her mother.

"Incompetent mother? Really, Lydia, have you looked in the mirror lately?"

And with that, Brooke is gone too.

--

"That was a stupid thing to do," Brooke says in a soft voice as she enters the living room with an ice pack.

He listens to the tone of her voice from where he sits on the couch, and understands that she doesn't sound angry. She steps smoothly across the dark room, and turns on the standing lamp, flooding the room in light.

She sits down next to him and holds the ice pack over his eye. He can still see through the other eye, though, and, looking at her, he spots concern on her face.

Lucas becomes very consciously aware of how close they are, and how her hand is rested on his knee. He notices the way the light bounces off her hair, tinting the soft waves with a sharp red. Her hair touches the soft, skin of her shoulders, and the green halter dress she's wearing leaves her arms and shoulders bare.

"Thank you," she almost whispers, her hand still holding the ice to his face.

"For what?" he wants the words to come out more nonchalantly than they do, but instead he sounds like an eager schoolboy.

"For being there."

They sit there for a few more seconds. Then Brooke pulls her hand away, laying the ice pack on the table. She doesn't look back at him – just stares at the chipped lining of the coffee table. But then he takes her wrist in his and she flinches, but only slightly.

She looks down at their touching skin, and then finally back at him. He brings a hand to her face, and gently grazes her skin with his fingers.

"You look beautiful."

He expects her to blush, or for her dimples to appear. Instead, she looks surprised. Seconds pass, and she seems to make a decision. She moves s little closer to him, and pauses, their faces inches away.

He can taste her breath already, and doesn't ask himself why she hesitated. Instead, he closes the gap, pressing his lips firmly against hers – lips he hasn't tasted in four and a half years.

Somehow it feels so right, and she brings a hand up to cup his cheek. Her body weight shifts, presses into his harder, and his hand grazes softly up her arm. His tongue enters her mouth, and for a minute, the world falls away.

It seems so strange and new to be kissing her now, and he keeps reminding himself that he lost that ownership of her so long ago. Somehow though, it's happening.

When they finally break the kiss, their foreheads stay rested against each other, and neither of them pull away.

"Who was he?" Lucas finally breathes out, tracing patterns on her bare leg.

Brooke pulls away, and a tear falls down her cheek. "He's just some guy…"

"Come on, Brooke. I know you. You wouldn't be this upset about 'some guy.'"

He's right. He knows her. He knows her better than perhaps anyone, and that's what scares Brooke. It's what's always scared her. Every since that night where she showed up naked in his backseat and he saw her for more than her gorgeous body.

And it just all comes spilling out.

"My mom set us up about a year ago. We went out for a few weeks, and it was fine. And – and then he tried to sleep with me. And…I wouldn't let him." She pauses and her voice begins to shake. "So he started insulting me all the time…b-but my mom wouldn't let me stop seeing him. And finally one night he just got so mad that he pushed me – hard. I fell – s-shattered the coffee table – and that's when I told him to leave."

He knows her better than anyone, and that's why he doesn't ask her anything else. He lets it go, not bothering to ask her why she wouldn't sleep with Miles, or, more importantly, why she lets her mother dictate her life so much.

"Stay here tonight," is all he mumbles, lying a hand across her cheek. "I don't want you to be alone."

Brooke nods. She's exhausted, and despite the fact that she hates it when he has the upper hand – when he's the stronger one in whatever kind of relationship they have – she's insanely grateful that he offered. She picks the ice pack up off the table and is about to retreat into the kitchen to return it to the kitchen. But then she turns back to Lucas, who's watching her with a look of sadness, worry, lust, need, and gentleness.

"I'm always alone, Luke."

Please review! You know how I love them )


	14. Where Love Went Wrong

**Soon Enough**

_**A/N: **_I spent my evening writing this update. It's been forever and a day, and I just felt so _shitty _after that recent Mark interview, where he basically shattered all of BLers hopes. I won't go into a rant, because that will last for pages and pages, but the least I could do is give you guy something to read. Maybe it will help to live in the fictional _fictional _world, for a little while reminiscing in what BL _could _be, if "4 years later" was written by us fanfiction writers. Anyway, enjoy, although this chapter is a little bit emo.

**Chapter 14**

Where Love Went Wrong

Nathan Scott likes to think that he's over beating people up. Haley changed him, way back in high school, and definitely for the better. He likes to think that nowadays, he stays out of drama. He likes to think those things. But they aren't true.

He and Brooke had never been particularly close. When they were younger – yes. They had grown up together, gotten drunk for the first time together, and, on one stupid occasion, slept together. But since they were probably 13 or 14, he can't think of more than a few meaningful conversations the two have shared.

It's a shame really. He's come to the conclusion that he and the dimpled brunette distance themselves from each other because they are both ashamed of their pasts. They have seen each other at their worst's, and neither of them want to be reminded of what life was like before they formed their tight group of friends.

But it's times like these – when someone _hurts _the girl that he grew up with – that he gets angry. It's times like these – when someone _insults _the girl that his brother is too scared to admit he loves – that he wants revenge. It's times like these that force him to make stupid decisions. Like sneaking out of the house.

He feels like he's cheating on Haley, in a way. Which is an absurd thought, really. Since the last time he even thought about having sex with another woman was when, last year, Haley had made him make an elevator list of the women he was allowed to sleep with, if they had been stuck in an elevator. Her list was composed of Matt Damon, Christian Bale, Brad Pitt, George Clooney, and John Mayer.

"So basically anyone that was in _Oceans 11," _he had said in a drone, causing her to defend herself with numbers 2 and 5.

Nathans list wasn't exactly unpredictable. Kate Bosworth, Angelina Jolie, Jennifer Aniston, Kate Hudson, and Gwyneth Paltrow. He had considered putting Taylor James on the list as a joke, but Haley would have most likely retaliated with Christ Keller, and he didn't exactly need another can of worms opened.

It's been _so _long since he's lied to her, and what he has to do is absolutely necessary. Brooke had gone home with Lucas, and Nathan knows that never in his right mind would Lucas leave Brooke, even it was to seek revenge on the guy who had hurt her. So it's Nathan's job – he's taken it upon himself to protect his family – and that doesn't just mean Haley and Jamie. But all their friends – even Peyton, wherever the hell she disappeared to.

He checks The Riverside first, the hotel he had heard that jackass was staying. But according to the receptionist, he hasn't returned for the evening. So Nathan heads across the street to the Blue Post. He'll stay out all night, and check every bar in town if that's what it takes.

The Blue Post is muggy with cigarette smoke, and seems to have gotten slimier since the last time Nathan was in here – which was, if he was accurate in his estimates, four years ago. It takes him less than a minute to find the head of shaggy hair, slumped over at the bar, downing a Jack Daniels.

"You have two options," Nathan says, sliding on to the stool next to him. "One: You can walk quietly out the front door with me so we can _talk _in the parking lot. Or two: you can force me to cause a scene. Which, honestly, wouldn't do much for your so-called _reputation._

Miles Ackerman is a big name in the male modeling industry lately. He's been in plenty of Calvin Klein ads – enough, at least, for Nathan to have already labeled him as a douche bag, without even knowing about his relationship with Brooke.

"Let me guess…" Miles swings on the barstool to face the younger Scott brother. "You're sleeping with her too."

"I'm not passed kicking your prissy little ass all the way back to the 5th avenue apartment your daddy pays for."

Miles is silent, simply picks off the label on his beer. Then he speaks. "You know…I can understand why you want to beat me up, man. But see…I don't care about being an asshole. Instead of attempting to beat the living shit out of me, though, I thought you'd like to know a little bit about your so-called _friend."_

"I'd like to think I know Brooke Davis a hell of a lot better than you do."

"Maybe you do," Miles shrugs. "But you didn't spend almost a month with her when she was in deep."

"What do you mean?" Nathan doesn't mean to sound so curious, but he can't help it.

Miles laughs. "According to her mother, when I met Brooke, she had been going through a lot of shit for the past year. After she spent the night with some guy and broke up with her sissy "virgin" boyfriend. All I wanted to do was sleep with her. I mean, she was hot, right?" Nathan feels his fist clenching. "But she came with all this baggage. She was drinking all the time, and taking like 18 different anti-depressants. So, even if she had _let _me screw her, most nights she passed out the minute she got home."

He can't listen to this anymore. Listen to the rant of a guy who seems to know Brooke better than anyone in Tree Hill. Or rather, know the way she spent her past four years. And suddenly, Brooke Davis isn't the girl Nathan knew in high school. Suddenly, he's scared for her.

"Still want to beat me up? Or do you want to hear more?" Miles laughs – or cackles more like it, and returns his attention to the basketball game currently playing on the television screen.

Nathan stands – pissed off, bitter, confused, upset. He turns to go, but in a moment of weakness, refocuses his attention on Miles, and throws a punch to the model's jaw.

Miles falls of the barstool with a groan, and the bar erupts with confused yells, and a handful of whooping from drunk businessmen looking to watch a fight. He doesn't pick himself up, but Nathan doesn't stay to finish. He's out the door without a backwards glance.

;;;

She's in his bed – her short locks spread across the pillow she used to love. He had given her some shorts and a t-shirt to sleep in, with assurances that he would spend the night on the couch. But she had made that little "guh" sound that he loved so much, and asked him to stay with her. He had promised, not only because there is no way in the world he could deny her anything, but because he missed lying next to her in bed, listening to her breathe – softly, slowly.

He comes back from the bathroom, pulls his shirt over his head, and lies down next to her. The air is awkward, mainly because both are trying not to think about the kiss they shared only minutes ago. The ceiling fan is on, moving around the hot August air, and both lie atop the sheets, rather than under them.

"Luke? Are you awake?"

"Yeah."

"How's your eye?"

He laughs. "I think I'll be okay…how're you doing?"

"I think I'll be okay."

"Look, Brooke…"

She interrupts him. "I'm sorry, Lucas." Her voice cracks as she speaks.

Lucas turns his head to look at her. She's staring straight at the ceiling, her eyes glossed over. She looks so _lost, _but then again, he can't remember a time recently where she _didn't _look lost.

"For what?"

"For…for you having to step in with Miles. It's not really your job to rescue me," she adds as an afterthought.

"Really? I kind-of remember promising you that I would."

Brooke turns her head and their eyes meet. He's immediately transported back 4 years to a night similar to this, when he had told a pretty girl that he would protect her.

_"Sometimes I just wish you could rescue me."_

_"From what?"_

_"From _all _of it."_

_"Okay then. I will. If you promise to rescue me back."_

_"I promise."_

"That was a long time ago, Luke."

"That doesn't make it any less important."

Brooke sighs. He wonder's how they got here – reminiscing on a relationship that was supposed to be over in high school.

"It's still important," he reiterates, swallowing slightly.

"But it's not!" Brooke exclaims, sitting up in bed. He finds her with his eyes through the dim moonlight. She runs a hand through her hair. "Why do you keep getting caught up in things that happened years ago? We were in high school, for god's sake!"

"You can't pretend that our relationship didn't happen, Brooke," Lucas answers, sitting up in bed as well.

"Yeah, just like you can't pretend you're relationship with Peyton didn't happen."

She said it. And the room seems to grow colder. She opens her mouth to speak again, but then shuts it, and averts her gaze to her lap.

"And just like you can't pretend we didn't kiss an hour ago."

More silence. And then, she stands. "I shouldn't have agreed to stay," she mutters, flushed.  
"Brooke..." Lucas protests, but she's already pulling the t-shirt over her head to reveal her black bra. She reaches for her dress and holds it in her right hand.

"You want to know why we didn't work as a couple, Lucas?" She puts her hands on her hips and Lucas averts his gaze, in order not to stare. "Because of things like this! You never understood me, I never understood you, and we didn't understand each other's insecurities!"

"You mean your stupid childish insecurities when it came to Peyton?" he spits out harshly.

She yanks the dress over her head and pulls off the boxers she was wearing. "You know what? Yeah! Do you want to know why I was so insecure about you and Peyton? Because you guys had this _epic _love story, and I was the ditzy whore who just fell in to your life! When it comes down to it, no matter how hard you tried, you could _never _love me as much as you loved her!"

Lucas stares at her, standing there, party dress wrinkled, mascara smudged. And he wonders, who could he have ever _not _loved her? "You know what? Yeah. You're right. I couldn't. I didn't love you as much as I loved her." He pauses. "I loved you more. Brooke – you don't get it. You were the _first _girl I ever really dated, the first girl I slept with, but most importantly, you were the first girl I ever fell in love with. If you are so insecure to think that I was in love with Peyton junior year, then you're seriously mistaken."

Brooke looks away from him, a fire entering her eyes. Then she speaks softly, slowly. "I liked to think you wouldn't cheat on me for anything less than love."

He sighs – defeated. Nothing he can say or do will change her mind.

"I don't want you to think that I never loved you," he finally manages to say.

"Then what _do _you want, Lucas? What exactly is it that we're doing here? Because until you can answer me that, there's no reason that we should be having this conversation."

"Do _you _even know what you want?" he retorts, unable to answer her question.

"I want things to be like they used to."

She says it so quickly, that it shocks him. Lucas is unused to Brooke being this upfront about her emotions, but she's staring him down in such a way, that he almost has to look away.

"_When? _How they used to be _when? _When we were together?" he takes a step towards her.

"Sometimes," she concedes. "But that's not what I mean. I want things to be how they used to be when I didn't feel."

"How can you even say that?"

"I'm tired of feeling _bad_" she responds, in choked words. "It's better to feel nothing at all. It's easier." Her voice is starting to crack.

"It's not easier, Brooke." He shakes his head and puts his hands on her hips.

"I can't…I c-can't." She begins to cry, hot tears rolling down her cheeks. He envelops her in his arms for a few moments, her small frame shuddering as she sobs. The once quiet house is filled with the sound of her quavering voice.

He begins to undress her again – pulls the dress back over her head. He picks up the clothing she had cast away on the floor and gently helps her back into the t-shirt and shorts. She's still crying – her face red and wet with her tears, and all Lucas can do is guide her to the bed.

Brooke doesn't protest, although he has assumed she would. He lies her down across the mattress, and wraps his large frame around her smaller one. His entire body shakes with her sobs, and his heart breaks a little more with every one of her tears.

He holds on to her tightly, as her sobs eventually subside and she slips into a restless sleep. And even after that he holds on, because even though she is the one who needs him right now, he still needs her.

;;;

It's one of the more cloudy days lately, and the overcast sky doesn't do much for her current emotional state. Brooke can barely think, let alone drive, and she has to consider it a miracle that she makes it to Nathan and Haley's in one piece. The house seems fairly silent as she pulls up the driveway, but then again, it's barely 8 in the morning on a Sunday.

She sits in her car for a few minutes, just staring at the house of a family who _somehow _managed to pull it all together, before making the decision to actually approach the steps to the front door. She doesn't want to ring the doorbell, but she realizes she doesn't have to, as the black oak door opens, and a small blonde boy steps out.

"Aunt Brooke!" Jamie squeals, running in to her arms.

Brooke smiles, a soft one meant only for Jamie, as the hugs the little boy. "Hey buddy, how're you doing?"

"I'm okay," Jamie shrugs. "But mommy and daddy aren't up yet. Were you looking for them?"

Brooke looks up at the second floor windows, somewhat absentmindedly, and then turns her attention back to Jamie. "No, actually, it's okay. I actually kind-of wanted to talk to you, if that's okay."

Jamie shrugs, and Brooke kneels down on the grass. He's standing on the first step to the porch, so when she's kneeling, they are pretty much at eye level.

"You know how much I love you, and how much I love spending time with you, and your mom and dad, and uncle Lucas and Skillz and Mouth. But there are some people back in New York, the city I came from, that need me to be there for them."

_Like who?_

"You're leaving?" Jamie asks, dejectedly.

Brooke nods, a defeated sigh escaping her lips. "You probably won't see me for awhile, buddy. But I promise that I will come back to visit you as much as I can, okay?"

"I'm gonna' miss you, Aunt Brooke," Jamie says, matter-of-factly, and Brooke's heart breaks a little bit.

"I'm going to miss you too, James Lucas Scott. But, I need you to do me a favor."

"No problem. Team Brooke!" Jamie exclaims excitedly, and Brooke has to chuckle a little.

"I need you to take care of Uncle Lucas for me. He may not admit it, but he needs someone to look after him. Do you think you can do that, little guy?"

Jamie nods vigorously. "You can count on me, Brooke." He pauses. "Were you ever in love with Uncle Lucas?"

Brooke averts her gaze downwards. "Maybe I still am," she says, wiping the tears that have started to form in her eyes."

"Are you sad, Aunt Brooke? Is that why you're crying?"

"Yeah, something like that," she whispers.

;;;

Lucas wakes up abruptly, to an empty bedroom, bathed in the dim light from the overcast day. It takes him a few seconds to realize that the form he was curled around is now gone, but that she's left a scent of lilacs and strawberries. The part of the bed she was lying on still feels warm.

He realizes that he had expected this. Expected her to pick up and leave, because she was ashamed of confronting him after last night. Ashamed of letting him see her broken and vulnerable. But he hadn't expected to feel so _empty _without her. He had woken up numerous times in the night, relishing in the feel of her body flush up against his, in the feel of her even breathing against her chest.

She's left him a note. He can see it from where he lies in bed, propped up on the bedside table, and he already has a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. They hadn't even slept together, and it still feels like her running away after a one-night stand.

He manages to stand up and drag himself into the kitchen. It isn't until he's got a cup of coffee in one hand and is sitting at the table, slightly more awake, that he works up the courage to open the letter. It says "Lucas" on the front, in sloppy writing, that is so uncharacteristic of Brooke. But then again, lately Brooke hasn't been the girl he thought he knew.

_Lucas,_

_Sometimes, in the past few years, in the middle of a huge fashion show, or a stressful meeting, I would close my eyes and think of you. Sometimes I'd wonder where you are – coaching at basketball practice, or maybe taking Lily to the park. Perhaps you would be at the Rivercourt with Nathan, or throwing milk balloons with Haley on the roof of Karen's café. _

_Sometimes, I'd think of what we used to be. When we both had plenty of affection to go around, and were so head-over-heels in love, that we were too blind sighted to see the rest of the world._

_But the rest of the world exists, Lucas. People get in the way, and things get in the way, and life gets in the way. And more often then not, the person you think you're destined to be with, slips away from you._

_For you, it was Peyton. And before you freak out, and burn this letter, along with those other 82, just listen. In the beginning, it was Peyton. You guys were soul mates – destined to be together from the day you told her that her art matters. _

_But then _we _happened. And your whole view on destiny and love was rearranged. Suddenly, it was all about us. Eventually, it turned back into being about Peyton, but for awhile, it was only you and me, Luke. _

_For me, it was you. This may hurt to hear, or you may love to hear it, but you were the only boy I ever loved. The only one I could ever give my heart fully to. And it hurt, because I always knew that part of yours belonged to someone else._

_I'm not writing this to you to tell you that you love Peyton. I'm using you and my best friend as an example of a relationship that was supposed to be meant to be, until life got in the way. And suddenly, it wasn't._

_Like with us. I love you Lucas. And I _know _that I always will. But it's not just about us, and what you want, and what I want. It's about what the world let's happen. And I can't live anymore of my life in the kind of amazingly painful love that came with being with you._

_I'm going back to New York. My time in Tree Hill has been amazing, and you've given me so much. But Luke, learn to _live,_ and learn to be happy. I don't know when we'll see each other again. And if you love me, if you really love me, let go of me. _

_xoxo_

_Your Pretty Girl_


	15. I Love You But I've Chosen Darkness

**Soon Enough**

_**A/N: **_Finally I have an update. I've been trying to decide between a few different directions to take this story for a while now. My path now feels pretty clear, but bear with me. I know this chapter doesn't have much BL, or Lucas, but hopefully it will establish the darker turn that the fic is taking. I definitely see this chapter as a turning point, and I hope you guys stick it out, because we still have a long road ahead of us. Thank you's are at the end. Thanks again, and I hope you enjoy the chapter!

**Chapter 15**

I Love You But I've Chosen Darkness

"What the fuck, Lydia?" Brooke drops the itinerary to the desk and stares up at her mother with a tired expression. "I didn't approve any of this."

Lydia, who's been standing at the window for a while now, turns, and crosses the room. "Don't be so petulant, Brooke. When you appointed me to be the CEO of your company, you essentially gave me the rights to make informed and smart decisions."

"Oh, so you call," Brooke picks up the itinerary again "Six European countries in five days, with red eye flights between all of them, and RSVP's to fashion shows every night, a smart decision?"

Lydia just looks smug. "You know, most girls your age would be thrilled to visit just one of those countries."

"Most girls my age, if visiting these countries, would have the opportunity to actually see them. The last time we were in Milan, I don't think I was outside for more than an hour in total over that whole week."

"It's called a career."

Brooke groans and rubs her temple. Her headache from this morning is back – but then again, most physical pain she feels lately only intensifies when her mother steps into the room. She shoots Lydia a dirty look. "I can't go any way. I have to be in town for the Victoria's Secret fashion show."

"I can be there for that."

"Over my dead body," Brooke mutters, already returning her attention to the computer screen. "You're wasting my time."

"Oh, get off your high horse and stop being such a baby!" shrieks Lydia, frustrated. "If you're still trying to punish me for bringing Miles to the party I threw for you down in that god-forsaken town, give it a rest."

Brooke's hand tightens on her computer mouse, but she keeps her eyes glued to the screen. "I'm giving you ten seconds to get out of my office."

"Oh, for heavens sake…"

"Ten…"

Lydia throws her hands up in defeat and, snatching the itinerary off of Brooke's desk, flounces over to the door of her office, flinging it open. She nearly runs into poor Millicent, who quickly jumps to the side to avoid spilling coffee on the irritated CEO.

"What was that about?" Millicent asks timidly, handing Brooke the Starbucks espresso, once Lydia has left.

"What are my conversations with my mother _ever _about? Her trying to dictate how I run _my _company."

"Oh…" Millicent falls silent.

"Thanks for the coffee," says Brooke with a smile, taking a long sip. The caffeine runs down her throat, and she sighs out in relief. She needs the energy boost – judging by the fact that it's only 2pm and she'll be at the office for over eight more hours.

"Sure…Look, Brooke, I know you have a lot on your plate right now, but this _Peyton _keeps calling." Millicent hands Brooke a notepad with a number of messages scribbled on it. "I know you said you'd call her back, but she called back again today saying that you hadn't."

Brooke sighs and looks down at the notepad, which feels exceptionally heavy in her hands. "Sorry Millie, I haven't gotten a chance to get to this yet. I'll do it now."

Millicent nods and returns to her desk directly outside of Brooke's office. Brooke looks down at the notepad, comes to a decision, and then reaches to her iphone, which sits just inches away from her on the desk.

Peyton's speed dial number is still one, despite the fact that Brooke hasn't called her best friend in ages. She presses call, and then stands from her desk chair, moving to the window where her mother had been standing just minutes ago.

Enterprises takes up the highest four floors of 145 39th street, which sits between 8th and 9th in the center of the fashion district of New York City. Brooke's office is on the top floor – nestled into the southwest corner of the building, where she has floor to ceiling paneled windows that give her a panoramic view of the Hudson River, and all of downtown Manhattan. The company had started off by just purchasing the 43rd floor, and then, year by year, bought out the remaining floor above. Now, on the 48th floor, both Brooke and Victoria have their offices, as well as the editor-in-chief of magazine and other important officials of the company.

The phone rings once, twice, three times, before finally going to voicemail. Brooke is slightly taken aback – subconsciously she had assumed that, because she had been avoiding Peyton's calls for so long, the blonde would just be waiting by the phone every minute of the day.

_"Hey, it's Peyton. Leave a message." _

"Hey Peyton, it's Brooke. Look, I know I haven't called you back. Work's just been really hectic, and I have a ton of deadlines on my plate. I'd love to talk to you, though, so just call me when you get a chance. Okay…bye."

She hangs up. She had wanted to say something else – perhaps ask why Peyton had just picked up and left after the revelation of Brooke's miscarriage. Or maybe explain that she's simply been avoiding her friend's calls because she really doesn't know what to say to her. She doesn't though, because that all seems too heavy for a voicemail – too heavy for a phone call itself possibly, Brooke has to admit. But when you're best friend is living on the other side of the country, what other choice do you have?

---

On the way home from work that night, it happens again.

She decides to walk for the third time this week – all the way from midtown to Park Ave. and 72nd. It's barely the beginning of October, but the evening is nippy, and her cheeks redden against the cold air. Her boots, knee-high and barely broken in, slap against the cold concrete as she maneuvers her way through the busy city streets.

The last time she had an anxiety attack like this was on Wednesday, when she had to excuse herself in the middle of a meeting, and lock herself in a bathroom stall. She stayed there for a good ten minutes, until she could calm down enough to gain an adequate amount of composure to return to the conference room.

Tonight though, it's different. It's more intense. It begins as she turns the corner onto Park and 39th, and hazy dark night sky begins to press down on her. All of a sudden, it seems as though every person on the sidewalk is slowing down, but she's moving at a lightning pace. Her chest tightens and her eyes blur with tears of confusion. It's frustrating, at the very least, for everything to feel so normal one minute, and so distorted the next.

She picks up her pace, as if she can somehow run away from the nauseating feeling residing in the pit of her stomach. The whole world is closing in on her, and she fumbles inside the pockets of her jacket for her phone.

At the crosswalk, she dials Lucas. She freezes momentarily, terrified that he won't pick up. Nevertheless, he does, sounding thoroughly groggy with his "hello?"

Brooke sobs out in relief, as the sound of his voice calms her. The hand gripping at her lungs loosens, and she breathes out as though she's been deprived of air for years.

"Brooke? Is that you? What's wrong?" He sounds worried, all tiredness from his voice gone.

She doesn't respond. Despite the fact that most of her anxiety vanished the minute she heard him speak, a feeling of self-loathing has settled in the pit of her stomach. In a moment of weakness, after so long of trying to distance herself from him, she had given up.

Brooke is still crying. Now, though, she's less terrified, and more depressed. She quickly presses end on her iphone. The call disconnects, and she crosses the street. Her disorientation increases as she blindly makes her way up Park Avenue, weaving her way through friends and couples and businessmen on the way home to their families.

Lucas calls her back almost immediately, and she freaks out and powers down her phone. It's selfish, and despicable and weak, but Brooke is too exhausted, too emotionally drained, and too petrified, to have a real conversation with him.

Somehow, she finds her way to her building. She doesn't even thank the night guard, Tony, who she's come to know very well ever since she started to come home from work late, for opening the door for her, as she normally does. The elevator ride to the penthouse feels as though it takes hours. She keeps her eyes closed the whole time as to not be reminded that she's in an enclosed area.

When the elevator doors finally open, and she steps into her dimly lit apartment, she can finally breathe. It's not a very satisfying breath – shaky and unsteady – but it's a breath nevertheless.

She moves through the living room, treading lightly, feet feeling heavy in her stiff boots. As she passes the couch, she catches a movement out of the corner of her eye, and a form sits up quickly.

"Brooke? Is that you?"

Brooke sighs. She meets Rachel's eyes to find that the redhead is carrying a groggy expression. "Yeah, I just got home. Go back to sleep."

She turns away from her friend – the friend who, tonight, like every other night this month, has fallen asleep on the couch waiting for the brunette to come home. The hallway to her bedroom extends out in front of her, but somehow she makes it to the master bathroom, where the harsh lighting is welcoming after the unforgiving darkness of the night.

"Brooke…" Rachel has followed her into the bathroom. "Are you okay?" she asks, somewhat apprehensively.

Brooke leans forward, shuts her eyes, and clutches the cool marble of the bathroom sink. She can barely nod –the migraine that normally succeeds these panic attacks of hers, is rearing its ugly head. "I'm fine…It's just…it's been a long day. I just need to sleep," she mumbles, in a highly discombobulated voice, as she reaches into the medicine cabinet and feels around.

When she pulls out the bottle of Advil, and tips four of the tiny capsules into her shaking hand, she can hear Rachel sigh.

"Did you have another anxiety attack?" The redheads voice is soothing – a trait she seems to have developed recently when dealing with Brooke.

Brooke closes her hand around the pills and looks up into the mirror. Her eyes are red – her cheeks splotchy and flushed. Dark bags sit under her eyes – a constant reminder of the extreme lack of sleep she's gotten lately. Her hair – normally lush and shiny – seems dull and lifeless under the bright bathroom lighting.

Rachel, who has come up behind her and laid a hand on her shoulder, just looks worried. All smugness that she used to carry around, and all of her cold reserve, disappears in moments like this.

"I called Lucas," Brooke mutters to her friend in the mirror.

Rachel looks taken aback, but then her face softens. "Did it help? Did it make the pain go away?"

The brunette squeezes her eyes shut, wondering briefly how she got to be like this.

"It's a different kind of pain."

---

When Brooke has finally slipped into a restless sleep, Rachel returns to the living room. It's after midnight, and Rachel has to be up early for a photo shoot, but she knows that she herself won't be able to sleep without doing this one last thing.

She's dialed this number what seems like a thousand times recently, and she knows that despite the fact that it's late, when he sees the caller ID, he'll pick up.

He does. "Rachel? Is that you?"

"Hi Nathan." She can hear the rustling of sheets as she pictures him getting out of bed, and moving into the dark hallway as to not disturb his sleeping wife.

"It's 12:30."

"I know, I know, I'm sorry," she says, apologizing quickly. "It's just, I needed to talk to you. It's important."

"Is it Brooke? Did something happen?" His voice darkens, in the same way it does every time she calls him about their common friend.

"She's fine. She's asleep now. But she had another panic attack tonight."

Rachel can hear Nathan sigh on the other end, and imagines that he's sliding to the floor and cradling the phone against his shoulder.

"When did it happen?"

"She was on her way home from work. She's been insisting on walking lately, even though I've been begging for her to take a cab. I don't think it's good for her to be out that late at night alone, especially with where her head is these days."

"Well how late is she coming home?"

Rachel pauses and cringes. "Like after ten."

"Rach!" Nathan exclaims. "You can't let her work herself to death. We've talked about this."

"I've tried to reason with her, Nathan." Her voice turns stiff. "Don't try and judge me when I'm the only one around to keep her from disappearing off of the face of the earth." There's a silence and Nathan doesn't respond. Rachel sighs. "I'm doing everything I can. She's overworking herself."

"I think that's pretty obvious." He still sounds pissed off but less judgmental. "I knew going back to New York was a bad idea."

"Nate, she was scared. She was running from everything she wanted, but thought she didn't deserve."

"By everything, you mean Lucas."

"In essence, yes." She pauses. "Which brings me to something else I need to talk to you about. Apparently she called him tonight."

"Tonight?" he sounds surprised. "Do you know what they talked about?"

Rachel shakes her head, although he can't see her. "No, but I'm pretty sure it was during her panic attack, considering she called it a 'moment of weakness.'"

"That's bad," Nathan mutters. "The last thing we need is Lucas coming up to New York to act the hero."

"As if it would fuck up all the progress she's made? Face it, Nate, the girl is _broken._"

They go back and forth like this perhaps four times a week. When Brooke had returned to New York, two days had barely passed before Nathan had called Rachel. It was strange, and out of the blue, but then he mentioned Miles, and Rachel understood.

Rachel hadn't moved into the apartment in New York with Brooke until about a year ago. Before that, however, she had still maintained a close relationship with the brunette. She had been there to deal with Brooke after that night with Lucas, and bit her tongue when the brunette had reunited with Chase the following day. When the ex-clean teen dumped her for good a month later, it wasn't exactly hard to figure out that the broody blonde had something to do with it.

That's when it got bad. Brooke started mixing drinking with taking anti-depressants that definitely hadn't been prescribed to her. Miles, a brainless idiot who modeled some clothes for the company, somehow wormed his way into Brooke's life via Lydia, despite Rachel's desperate attempts to keep him away.

In the end, after Miles had gotten sick of emotionally and physically abusing Brooke, and also fed up with her unwillingness to sleep with him, Rachel had been left to pick up the pieces. Brooke claimed she was fine, busying herself with her work, patching her life back together, piece by piece, but if anyone could see past all of it, it was Rachel. Brooke's claims were bullshit.

Rachel had thought that Brooke's decision to return to Tree Hill would be smart. Clearly she was wrong. Brooke had come back to New York, briefly, after some sort of falling out with Lucas, and then gone back to the small town and apparently made up with him.

But now she's back. And from the way she's acting, from the way she's running around making plans and scheduling events, from the way she's definitely settled herself into a somewhat discombobulated routine, Rachel is pretty sure Brooke's back for good.

"I thought things were getting better…I thought they had gotten over all their shit." Nathan sighs, and Rachel knows it must be difficult for him to deal with all of this, and to not be able to go to Haley, but both he and Rachel agreed that there was no reason to involve any third parties. They were handling it as best they could.

"What happened, Nathan? And I mean back then. What happened to the two of them back then?"

"She had a miscarriage." He says it abruptly, as if maybe it had just slipped out, and then there's this long, awful silence. Rachel can't exactly say that she's angry Brooke didn't tell her – the brunette has never been one for sharing the details of her long lost relationship with Lucas Scott. However, this revelation is surprising. Shocking, rather. And, to be frank, makes this a lot clearly.

"For fucks sake, Nate, why didn't you tell me this earlier?" She supposes it's a bit strange that she's angrier at him for keeping this from her, than angry at Brooke, but she shrugs it off.

"It's pretty heavy…I didn't want to betray Brooke's trust."

Rachel, ignores his comment. "This explains so much," she mutters, placing a palm against her forehead, and leaning against the counter. "Is that why she broke up with him?"

She can almost hear the younger Scott shrugging. "I really don't know the details. All I know is that Lucas found out while she was in Tree Hill. But I honestly thought they had solved things. I mean, they went on a freaking date. And she went home with him after he punched out Miles at the party. She was gone the next day."

"Do you think they slept together?" Rachel's cringes at the possibility.

"I don't know." He sounds tired – as if this whole conversation is wearing him out. The two of them, a very odd team considering Rachel's embarrassing attempt to get him to sleep with her while Haley was carrying his child, are doing the best they can.

"Something has to change. We _need _to fix this."

"I know…I know."

When they finally hang up, nothing is resolved. The matter of fixing Brooke, and getting her life back on track, still hangs in the air. They hadn't even discussed Lucas who, while more coherent then Brooke, has become another issue to deal with.

Rachel switches off the last remaining light in the living room. She moves down the hallways, passing Brooke's room. It's silent now, and the redhead exhales, relieved. She hopes that the brunette is getting some sleep. She'll be up early anyway, sneaking out of the house and heading to the gym before work to overexert herself physically.

Rachel sighs. All Brooke had said when she returned from Tree Hill was that she was coming back to "heal." End of story. Well, it's been three months, and Rachel doesn't see Brooke healing at all.

---

**Thank you…**

BL-CS, princetongirl, Brucasfan23, **Chey**, nate23, Princesakarlita, Demi Vastille, brookeheartslucas, **Mckenna**, brucas333, Toddian, TeamSophia, BRUCAS EQUALS LOVE, awhero, **Yana**, Mosie1213, Writer Writes Words, **Leah**, othfan326, Dayzsollers, **Kristin**, flipflopgal


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